the reason
by from here to the moon
Summary: "She was his entire reason. She showed him it was okay to live again."-AU
1. the girl was too kind and too good

**notes:** So yeah, here I go with another story. You know you're a dedicated ichihime fan when just about everything reminds you of this pairing. I'm so obsessed with this one movie that it inspired me to write another fic. The whole dynamic of the movie stirred up this story and I had to share it with my fellow shippers.

Anyways, some of the characters here will seem a bit out of character—specifically Ichigo. I mean, I'm trying something new here but hopefully I didn't fail. Let me know what you think.

**rating: **T+

**disclaimer: **Bleach © Kubo. I take no credit of A. J. Quinnell's work.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_the girl was too kind and too good_

**:**

The restaurant was too opulent for Ichigo's liking. The cuisine settled before him was left untouched but the glass of wine was empty. Ichigo reached over, grabbed the bottle and helped himself to a refill of the rich, red liquid. He downed the beverage in a single gulp. Although the blond sitting across the table from him was irking, he decided it'd be best to enjoy the luxuries she was paying for.

It soon became clear to Ichigo that Matsumoto was no novice when it came to drinking. Smacking her lips frankly, she smirked mockingly at Ichigo. When she spoke, she addressed the other man sitting at the table. "I asked for one of your strongest men, Kisuke, and instead, I get a _boy_."

Seething, Ichigo openly glared at Matsumoto. However, his response appeared to amuse her rather than unsettle her. Although her finely shaped face was flushed pink, she had no difficulty speaking her mind clearly.

"Now, now," aided Urahara, leaning back in his comfortable chair, "I'd never mislead you, Rangiku. I'm fully aware of how precious your niece is to you."

Meticulous blue eyes scrutinized Ichigo in a manner he was accustomed to; his daunting facial expressions and sour attitude constantly gained him distrustful reactions. "Then explain to me why you recommended this carrot top."

"Because," started Urahara, "Ichigo here is a good friend of mine who happens to have a lot of experience. He's more than capable to guard Miss Inoue."

Matsumoto folded her arms beneath her overexposed bosom. Raising a brow in challenge, she asked, "What kind of experience, Kisuke?"

"Military training and extensive counter terrorism work," answered Urahara. He reached down, pulled a folder from his briefcase and then handed it over to Matsumoto. "You can review Ichigo's qualifications yourself."

Skeptical, Matsumoto skimmed the papers. Her lips pursed together as she read the long list of practice. Once she finished, Matsumoto glanced up at Ichigo with an entirely different demeanor, the doubt gone. "When can you start?"

"Whenever."

Matsumoto grinned widely and extended her hand to him. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Reluctantly, Ichigo shook Matsumoto's hand. Looking rather pleased with herself, she bid the two men goodbye and excused herself.

Ichigo frowned as a thought occurred to him. "I'm not fucking paying for the bill, getaboshi."

Urahara sighed dramatically. "I see your personality is as awful as ever."

Snorting, Ichigo shook his head incredulously. "A bodyguard, Kisuke?"

"What?" said Uraraha, playing innocent. "Your Chinese is good enough and you certainly look the part. Well, excluding your outrageous hair."

Ichigo grabbed the bottle of wine and drank the remainder of it. "And what if, just say, there was a kidnap attempt? Nobody wants their bodyguard to be a washed up drunk."

"It didn't seem to matter to Rangiku," said Urahara, placing his credit card in the restaurants bill book and handing it to a passing waiter. "Besides, she won't be paying you enough to perform miracles." Sensing Ichigo's dejected mind-set, Urahara went on to say, "Look, even at half-speed you're pretty damn good."

Jaw clenched, Ichgo drawled out, "A bodyguard has to be close to someone all the time. Willing to talk. And in case you haven't noticed yet, I'm not good at that."

Urahara shrugged indifferently. "So you'll be the silent type."

Ichigo paused for a moment, deliberating. "So who exactly will I be working for?"

"Technically, Matsumoto is the one hiring you," explained Urahara. "But you'll be guarding her niece, Orihime Inoue."

"And what's so special about the girl?"

"She's the only daughter of Iwao Inoue. He's Rangiku's relative who also happens to own one of the plants here in Beijing. The American car industry is down the toilet. He's been trying to get Shuanghuan to partner with him. I think he's in trouble."

"So he thinks his daughter needs protection?"

"Guess so, since he asked Rangiku to hire somebody. She called me up the other day and wanted to know if I knew anybody she could trust."

"So you think I can be trusted?"

Urahara rolled his eyes as he stood up. "Try it out, Ichigo. Then decide if you want to stick around or not. Anyways, you could use some air."

Ichigo stared at his large hand that was mottled by old burn marks. The creases on his forehead deepened. "Do you think we'll ever be forgiven for all that we've done?"

Perceptive, Urahara eyed the young man. He took a moment before answering honestly. "No, I don't believe so."

"Neither do I."

**:**

Orihime stripped her daytime clothes for a lilac nightgown. She settled herself at the edge of her grand bed and methodically brushed her long, auburn hair. It trailed down her back in soft waves. Orihime hummed quietly to herself, running the brush through her hair delicately.

Done with the chore, she slipped under the sheets. Before lying down, Orihime brought her hands together and closed her eyes. Bowing her head, she offered a prayer with sincerity. After praying for her beloved brother she murmured to herself, "Lord, I do not ask for wealth or better things. People ask for these so often that I'm sure there isn't anymore left to give. Please God, give me what you still have. Give me what no one else asks for. Amen."

Orihime grabbed the old, battered teddy bear Sora gave her as a child. It was one of the few items she couldn't stand to part with. She smiled at the stuffed animal and chastely kissed the tip of its nose. "Goodnight," she whispered.

Then she fell into her dreams, the only place she could escape from the harsh realities of her day to day life.

**:**

The Inoue household was more of a courtyard or a villa. The two-landing home was classically constructed and the gardens surrounding the area were well kept. The gates guarding the place opened for Ichigo after he identified himself. Uncomfortable, he strolled up to front doors where a maid awaited his arrival.

"This way, sir," said the small woman, guiding Ichigo through the halls. "Matsumoto-sama is in the living room."

Somewhat curious, Ichigo glanced around. Not far from where they were, the sound of the piano playing drifted their way. The maid gestured to the room. "Right in here."

Matsumoto was perched on the couch dressed in another provocative outfit. Her lips twisted up into a brazen smile when she saw Ichigo. "Kurosaki-san," she greeted warmly. "Please, have a seat."

Ichigo sat on the opposite end of the couch and accepted Matsumoto's offer of a glass of scotch with water. He leaned back against the cushions and focused on the pleasant melody. It was a rendering of Delibes's _Lakmé_.

"Inoue-san will be here shorty," said Matsumoto after a moment. Uneasy, she shifted in her seat. "You shouldn't have any problems impressing him. Things like this don't usually interest him."

"Then why is he asking for my service?"

"Because," snickered Matsumoto, swirling the contents of her own drink, "I want Orihime in safe hands."

Someone entered the room who Ichigo assumed was Iwao Inoue. The man was of average height with dark hair. Mouth formed in a tight line, Iowa gave Ichigo a quick once over. "Ichigo Kurosaki?"

Ichigo stood up and shook Iwao's hand. The man made a point to look Ichigo in the eye. As Ichigo stared back with complete indifference, Iwao noted the hardness in Ichigo's rugged face. Abruptly, Iowa turned away and settled in the recliner. "Were you provided with a gun, Kurosaki-san?"

"Yes."

Pouring himself a drink, Iwao said, "Show me, please."

Without the slightest hesitation, Ichigo pulled out a pistol from under his jacket and passed it to Iowa. Matsumoto gazed at the gun warily, retracting away from it. "What is it?" she asked.

"Nine millimeter," said Ichigo casually. "Sig Sauer 226."

Speculation sparked within Iwao. His grin quickly turned iniquitous as he turned the gun in his hands. "Have you used this type before?" When Ichigo nodded once, he asked, "Is it loaded?"

"Yes."

Iwao handed back the pistol. "Have you done much of this work before?"

Ichigo shook his head. "Never."

Matsumotot swiftly intervened, adding, "He has experience in related work. A great deal of it, Iowa."

Iwao took a purposeful sip of his scotch. "Do you have family, Kurosaki-san?"

Ichigo hesitated, feeling Matsumotot's insightful gaze. "No. I do not have family."

"That's too bad," said Iwao. He continued observing Ichigo until he was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. Iwao glanced at the phone's screen, muttering, "He will do, Rangiku. Have his luggage sent over; the spare room is already prepared."

Then without another word, Iwao took his leave.

Matsumoto exhaled deeply. "Well, I suppose I should introduce you to Orihime."

Ichigo waited as Matsumoto called for her "niece." Immediately, the piano ceased playing and rapid footsteps followed in its wake. Ichigo's eyes widened as Orihime appeared in the doorway. "Yes, Oba?"

"Orihime-chan," said Matsumoto, "This is Ichigo Kurosaki, your new bodyguard."

Ichigo grew tense; he had expected a young girl, not a full grown woman. Orihime's large, stormy eyes flickered towards him and then she smiled vibrantly at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kurosaki-san," she said in fluent Chinese with a respectful bow. "Please, take care of me."

Her voice was wistful and gentle. It reminded Ichigo of memories that were both pleasing and bitter. Brash, he openly admired her curtain of hair. The color was a fine auburn that he found lovely.

"He speaks Japanese," informed Matsumoto. "Show him to his room."

Orihime nodded obediently. "This way, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo allowed Orihime to lead the way. He could not stop himself from staring at her vivacious body. She wore a simple wool sweater that exposed her shoulders and collarbone while her bottoms were a pair of jean shorts. The outfit was harmless but on her it seemed tantalizing.

The corner of Ichigo's mouth curved upward as he watched Orihime's hips sway. Being close to her allowed him to inhale a strong waft of roses. Ichigo understood why Matsumoto was so tenacious on having Orihime protected; she was inintentionally alluring.

The two of them stepped outside into the courtyard. A large, tan man gave Orihime a thumbs ups as he brushed by. He was swathy, hauling a bag of seeds over his broad shoulder. "Hello, Inoue-chan," he said quietly.

Orihime waved enthusiastically. "Hello, Sado-kun!"

Ichigo kept silent while Orihime pointed out certain people they passed. "That's Sado, the gardner. Oh, and that's Tessai the cook . . ."

Orihime proceeded to direct Ichigo to a separate building beside the main house. It was reasonably clean inside. "Oba and I fixed up the room a week ago," said Orihime as she walked up a set of stair. "It's nicer than before."

Ichigo's bedroom was in moderate size. He strolled around, examining the plush bed and polished furniture.

"You have a television and a CD player if you like music," said Orihime offhandly. "If there's something not to your liking I can have it fixed."

_Caw!_

Ichigo glanced over to a cage beside the window sill. A Macaw cocked its head to its side, watching Ichigo. It flapped its wings and puffed out its feathers.

"That's Birdy. Ulquiorra forgot to take him when he left."

"Who's Ulquiorra?" asked Ichigo.

Orihime's shoulders fell. "My last body guard. He used to drive me to school and picked me up. He didn't like to talk much either."

Ichigo looked out the window. "Exactly how old are you, Orihime-san?"

"I just turned seventeen," answered Orihime. "What about you, Kurosaki-san?"

"Twenty-six," said Ichigo curtly. "And just call me Ichigo. Kurosaki-san reminds me of my old man."

Orihime flushed. "Okay, I-Ichigo . . ."

Birdy squawked again at Ichigo. It made an attempt to bite his finger when he tried to touch it. "Guess he doesn't like me."

"It's alright," murmured Orihime. "I like you, Ichigo."

It took a second for Orihime to realize what she just said. She squeaked and covered her mouth. "S-Sorry! Sometimes I say what I think aloud." Orihime bypassed pink and turned maroon. "I-I should go!"

Ichigo watched Orihime dash out of his room with her long hair dancing behind her. Sighing, he sat down in a chair and rubbed the back of his neck. In less than a hour, Orihime Inoue had captured his affections and that was unacceptable.

**:**

Matsumoto knocked on Orihime's door twice and then entered. She found Orihime curled up in bed, absentmindly petting her longtime teddy bear. It was strange, seeing haunting ghosts in her smokey eyes. "Orihime, are you okay?"

Orihime's long lashes brushed against her cheekbones as she slowly blinked out of her reverie. "Sorry," she said bashfully. "I was daydreaming again."

Matsumoto sat down at the foot of Orihime's bed. "What do you think of Kurosaki-san?"

Orihime's smile was wide and sheepish. "I like him. "

"You do?"

Nodding, Orihime brought the stuffed animal closer. "He reminds me of a big bear," she cooed, her smile turning secret. "Ichi Bear . . ."

Matsumoto grinned, fully aware of what the dazed expression on Orihime's face meant. But she could not find it in herself to remind Orihime that Ichigo was nothing like the other men she knew. Ichigo was a cold man with rough edges and a benign person such as Orihime could not find love with him. Instead, Matsumoto affectionatly tucked Orihime's hair away from her face. "I'll be going now. Gin's going to return tomorrow."

"Tell him I said hi," babbled Orihime, her eyes drooping.

"Goodnight," whispered Matsumoto, turning and leaving with silent footsteps. She switched off the light and disappeared.

**:**

Ichigo had finished meticiously organizing his room. On his bedside was a half-empty bottle of scotch. Next to it was a pack of cigarettes and his gun. Ichigo opened the drawers and placed his sharply folded shirts. In the corner of a dresser, he hid a medium sized chest.

When Ichigo finished unpacking, he glanced at the scotch. Before he could make up his mind, Birdy screeched disapprovingly. Frowning, Ichigo grabbed his gun, ejected the shell from the breach and tried to catch the it on the back of his hand.

Ichigo's hand shook and bullet bounced off. He picked it up from the floor and examined it closely. Then he ejected the the magazine and began to oil the weapon.

Birdy crowed again and Ichigo concluded that this relationship was not going to work. If he stayed, Orihime would surely die. He was not competent enough to properly protect someone so exquisite.

Ichigo put his gun back into its holster and hung it over the corner post of the bed. Then he grabbed a map and flattened it out on the nearby desk. Using a pencil, he traced various routes from the Inoue household to Orihime's school.

Birdy squawked for the seventh time in a row. The vein on Ichigo's temple throbbed and he decided he was done. He stepped over to the cage and opened the door. "Go on," he urged. "Now's your chance."

The bird scuffled inside its cage with fear. Ichigo shook the cage in encouragement; instantly, Birdy hopped out and flew out the window to blend into the night.

**:**

Grimly, Ichigo sat behind the wheel of the Mercedes. Beside him in the passenger seat was a glowing Orihime. He had made it habit to avoid looking at her when necessary. It was an exceptionally hard habit considering her uniform's skirt didn't cover her thighs as much as he'd like.

Biting her lip, Orihime peered at Ichigo's scarred hands. "Where are you from, Ichigo?"

He hated how she said his name; it rolled off her tongue like a caress and it made his muscles tighten. "Japan."

"I know but which part?"

Ichigo looked at the rearview mirror. The traffic in Beijing was much more hectic to what he was accustomed to. "No where in particular."

"I'm from Japan too," said Orihime, tinkering with the radio. "But when I was very little, Oto-san moved us here to China for his work."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed at the sight of a silver, battered Toyota Corolla pulling up behind them. On high alert, he made an unexpected left turn. Ichigo relaxed when the car continued the way it was going.

"You really don't like talking, do you?"

"No," said Ichigo.

"Why not?"

Ichigo's jaw clenched. "Because I'm busy looking for potential," he growled out, sparing a pointed glare at Orihime.

Orihime was unfazed. Childishly, she tilted her head to side, causing her river of hair to spill over her frail shoulder. "Potential? For what?"

"Places where the roads bend, places away from buildings, places where traffic thins out. But you don't have to understand—I do. So stop talking."

Orihime paused, her heart picking up speed in a flurry of fear. "Are you going to quit? My last body guard quit."

Ichigo caught the panic laced in her voice. For her sake, he made an attempt to cool his temper. "Let me guess, you wouldn't stop talking?"

"No," said Orihime softly, turning away to look out the window and watch blurry, unknown faces of strangers pass by. "Someone gave him more money than we could."

Ichigo did not like her crestfallen tone. It did not suit her, she was bright not dull. "That makes me a bargain then, doesn't it?"

Orihime peeked at Ichigo whose eyes were glued to the street in front of him. She noted his nose was somewhat crooked and wondered whether or not it got that way from a fistfight. "There were twelve kidnappings in the last four days—three a day. What do you think about that, Ichigo?"

Ichigo absorbed the piece of information. So Orihime was a lot more insightful than she let on. "Pretty impressive. Maybe I need to up my fee or get a larger gun."

Orihime appreciated Ichigo's attempt to lift her mood. The private school she attended came into view, making a knot form in the pit of Orihime's stomach. It was guarded by high walls and heavy gates that opened when they identified themselves.

Ichigo pulled up and parked the car near the school entrance. He opened the door for Orihime and walked her inside. Right away, Ichigo noticed heads turn at her arrival. The males had a hungry look in their eyes and did not attempt subtlety. In contrast, the girls stared either in envy or disdain.

"Orihime!"

A girl with dark hair scurried up to the pair of them. Orihime beamed widely and eagerly greeted her friend with a tight embrace. "Tatsuki-chan!"

Tatsuki smiled fondly and gently patted Orihime on the back. She was not one for affection but she couldn't deny that she had a soft spot for the energetic girl. It was hard to not grow attached to Orihime, the girl was too kind and too good.

Ichigo averted his attention as another figure appeared. A woman with brown hair pulled back in a sleek pony tail and spectacles formally approached them. "Hello," she said.

Orihime perked up and bowed. "Ochi-sensei, this is my new bodyguard: Ichigo Kurosaki."

Ochi-sensei nodded stiffly at Ichigo. Her dark eyes inspected Ichigo tersely and Ichigo was certain she saw right through him. Like many others, Ochi-sensei became wary of him. "You must take care of our Orihime. We're so happy to have her back in school."

The school bells chimed warningly.

"Run along now, girls," said Ochi-sensei.

Orihime waved goodbye to Ichigo and then bounded away with Tatsuki. Ichigo watched her go, his eyes half-lidded.

"She's late, Kurosaki-san," reprimanded Ochi-sensei.

"Yeah," admitted Ichigo grudgingly. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I've got to get used to the routes. I—it won't happen again."

"No offense," said Ochi-sensei, "but I'm sorry your profession needs to exist."

"So do I, Ochi-sensei."

**:**

Ichigo pulled out of the school and started down the congested street. He only reached a few meters before sirens sounded and a police car appeared behind him. Shaking his head, Ichigo grumbled, "Here we go again."

His patience wearing thin, Ichigo pulled over and began shuffling through the front seat's glove department as two police offers walked over.

The taller of the two cops leaned in through the car window. "Do you speak Chinese?"

"Yeah," grunted Ichigo.

"Do you have identification?"

Ichigo handed over his passport and a legitimate firearms license. "It's for a temporary gun I'm carrying," he explained. "I just went through all of this at the airport."

The two cops exchanged a look. Then the shorter one spoke. "Step out of the vehicle."

Ichigo scowled. "Fucking shit."

**:**

Urahara answered his cell phone. "Urahara here. Ichigo, what's up?" He paused and then laughed. "You got tossed again in less than forty-eight hours. That must be a new record. Well, all I can say is don't trust the cops, especially the Judicials."

Urahara chortled as Ichigo seethed on the other end of line. "Oh, you already know that?"

**:**

Ichigo glared as the camera flashed. His mug shot picture was feral. He decided he absolutely _loathed_ China.

**:**

After Urahara paid Ichigo's way out of the police station, Ichigo went on to wander around the area near Orihime's school. The frivolous shopper all avoided Ichigo and made way for him. No one got too close, terrified by his appearance.

Ichigo spotted a music store and went inside. He strolled amidst the various sections and stopped at the American Metal genre. He searched through the racks and pulled out a particular album.

The CD played inside the car as Ichigo waited for Orihime, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

**:**

From across the cafeteria table, Tatsuki discreetly watched her auburn haired friend pull out her bento box from her bag. Eagerly, Orihime lifted the top and grabbed a homemade _anpan_. It was obviously her dessert but Orihime didn't seem to care. She took a hearty bite and squealed happily. "Bwah~! It tastes _so_ good!"

Tatsuki smiled slightly over her _dim sum_ and rice noodle rolls. It was hard for her believe Orihime hardly had any friends. The girl was exceptionally kind and loyal. For some reason, their fellow school mates had the impression that Orihime was arrogant. Tatsuki thought they simply mistook her shyness as pretension.

Tatsuki had to admit, she had been surprised when she befriended Orihime and realized all the allegations about her were false. She was not conceited or rude like the other girls said. In fact, Tatsuki had the feeling that Orihime didn't see her own beauty and was actually a lot more insecure than she let on.

"Ne, would you like some?" offered Orihime, a sprinkle of crumbs adorning her face.

"No thanks," said Tatsuki. "It looks delicious but I have to stick to my diet. Coach wants us to avoid too many sweets."

"Oh, okay then."

Orihime began eating some of her teriyaki. Right away, Tatsuki noticed Orihime's stardust filled eyes glaze over like morning dew. It was a look that indicated her mind was elsewhere in a far away place made up of her thoughts and dreams.

"So," started Tatsuki, "do you like your new bodyguard?"

Orihime broke from her trance and turned a light shade of pink. "H-Huh?"

"I was asking whether or not you like that scary looking bodyguard of yours."

"Ichigo isn't scary looking," defended Orihime who fixated her attention to her meal.

"Didn't you notice his ugly scowl or his hands?"

Orihime squirmed in her seat, feeling bubbles of anxiety. "I think he has a strong face, that's all. And so are his hands."

Tatsuki frowned, catching the way her tone turned tender. The only other time Orihime sounded that way was when she spoke of her brother, Sora. "But they have scars on them."

Orihime appeared genuinely perplexed. "So?"

"They looked self inflicted."

Delicate eyebrows furrowed together in worry and bewilderment. "Self inflicted—?"

The bell rang indicating the end of lunch. Around the two friends, the other students gathered their trash and things, preparing to head back to class. Orihime stood up and began clearing her spot, determined to not look directly at Tatsuki. She could feel the other girl's probing gaze, persistently searching for what she was hiding.

In all honesty, Orihime wanted to confess to Tatsuki the strange feelings she was experiencing. It was difficult to understand why she was so enthralled by Ichigo or why she found herself longing to get closer to him, she barely knew Ichigo and that bothered her.

Suddenly, Orihime stumbled backwards and barely managed to catch her balance. The girl who had bumped into Orihime's shoulder faltered. "Sorry—" She halted when she saw it was Orihime and then turned away coldly. "Get out of the way."

"Hey," snapped Tatsuki. "Apologize to Orihime."

The girl hesitated, crumbling under the kung fu prodigy's glower. She was at a loss, unsure whether to stand her ground or risk being snapped in half. However, she did not need to make up her mind.

"It's alright, Tatsuki," said Orihime quietly. "Please, just let it go."

"But Orihime—"

Orihime bowed her head at the girl, her hair shielding her face. "My apologies."

Neither Tatsuki nor the girl knew what to say or do, both were taken aback. Hastily, Orihime grabbed her bag and rushed out. If she was quick enough, she could stop by the restroom to wash her face before class started.

"Do that again," threatened Tatsuki when the girl continued to stand rooted to the floor, "and I'll personally make sure your mouth winds up on the other side of your head."

**:**

Orihime stepped out of the school's gate along with the other students pouring out. She glanced around for a familiar head of orange hair. She found Ichigo leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette and hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses. He had distanced himself from the drivers and other bodyguards. Like herself, Ichigo received many unfriendly looks.

Quickening her pace, Orihime went on to join him. She offered a smile that filled her face. Ichigo simply palmed the cigarette and helped her into the car, his frown still chiseled.

Neither said anything for a while. Orihime stared out the window as they headed home and then realized something. "We're taking a different way home."

"That's right."

Orihime pondered and then grinned cheekily. "I get it. Smart."

Ichigo said nothing in response. It was hard not to feel foolish around her. He inched down the window, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind. Orihime's scent was beginning to make Ichigo dizzy.

Orihime turned to him. "Did you like school, Ichigo?"

"No."

"Not at all?" pressed Orihime.

"No."

Orihime leaned into Ichigo, unaware that she was treading into dangerous territory. "But why not?"

Ichigo hoped Orhime would just shut up. This was exactly why he did not think he was cut for the job. He did not like sharing information about himself. To make matter worse, Orihime seemed eager to find out everything he wanted to keep a secret. Jaw clenched, he focused on driving.

"Hmmm?"

Sighing, Ichigo said brusquely, "My school wasn't like yours."

"How so?"

Ichigo didn't want to remember the many years in military school. "It was brutal," said Ichigo. "There was no Tatsuki or Ochi-sensei."

"So you were unhappy?"

"Being unhappy is a state of mind. I never thought about it."

"Oh . . ."

Orihime contemplated how to get past the stone walls Ichigo had built. She needed a way in. Her gaze flickered to Ichigo's scarred hands on the steering wheel. Tatsuki's worrisome words echoed in the back of Orihime's mind. Then she tentatively reached out. "What happened to . . ."

Soft fingertips touched Ichigo.

". . . your hand?"

Ichigo winced and immediately jerked away. Such a simple act caused a ripple of fire to run up his forearm. He shot Orihime a glare that had her reeling. Teeth grounded, he snarled, "No more questions."

A sliver of guilt made its way into Ichigo as Orihime shrank away from him. But it didn't stop Ichigo from speaking coldly, he had decided. "I'm not paid to be your friend. I'm paid to protect to you." Heavy silence filled the space between Ichigo and Orihime. When he finally glimpsed over, he found Orihime staring straight ahead, her chin quivering. Exasperated, Ichigo muttered, "And don't start crying."

Long lashes covered Orihime's eyes. "I'm not crying."

But she was.

Ichigo stopped at a red light. It startled him how much it hurt to see Orihime cry. It wasn't right, she wasn't fit for tears. Honestly, he preferred her smiling. "Look," said Ichigo, "this is the way I am. I don't like questions. I—"

And she was out the door.

"Shit," cursed Ichigo. He shoulder-opened his door and bolted out. By the time he barely straightened himself up, Orihime was already getting back into the car but this time it was the backseat.

The light turned green and angry drivers honked their horns. Ichigo raked his hair and returned inside the car.

"You can take me home now, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo glanced back at Orihime through the rearview mirror. She avoided his eye, looking anywhere but at him. As the chorus of horns persisted, Ichigo shifted the car into gear and stepped on the gas pedal.


	2. his last resort

**notes: **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it. You guys are just amazing.

Ugh, this chapter was both difficult and fun to write. So many elements were used here and I wanted to get them all right. Here you'll be seeing Orihime giving Ichigo the cold shoulder (well her version of it anyways). But you'll also get a somewhat softer side of Ichigo too.

I'm really hoping the manga will include Orihime sometime soon. I swear it's killing me. For now, you can enjoy this.

**rating: **T+

**disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_his last resort_

**:**

Chopin drifted across the courtyard from the main house. Humming to herself and swaying slightly to the music, Orihime's fingers danced over the keys. Her skill as a pianist was proven as she tackled the heart of song, passionately making the piano sing.

Ichigo sat by his bedroom window, a glass of scotch in his hand. His view allowed him to peek into Orihime's bedroom since her white curtains were pulled aside. Around the window sill were flourishing flowers. That explained why she always smelled good.

But Orihime was in the living room. It was better that way, considering the incident earlier that day. Although it was already twilight, Ichigo could not shake off the guilt he felt for his actions. Orihime did not understand that she was making his job harder than necessary. It would be best if she left him be.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened to reveal Matsumoto, clad in a black dress. Her hair was curled elegantly in a half-do. It was evident she was fixed up for the upcoming night. "Kurosaki-san, I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed."

"I'm fine."

"Is the food alright? Tessai tells me that you didn't eat."

"The food's fine. I didn't feel like eating."

Matsumoto smirked. "It insults Tessai. Slip it to the dog if you have to . . ." She paused, with indecisiveness. "Do you mind if I talk to you for moment?"

Ichigo shook his head.

Matsumoto glided into the room, perching herself on his bed. She tried making eye contact but Ichigo refused. "How are you getting along with Orihime?"

Ichigo took a gulp of scotch before saying, "We'll be okay once she realizes I'm not a new toy."

"Yes, she told me," said Matsumoto. "Do you have children, Kurosaki-san?"

"I told you I didn't."

"Then you should know they can be stubborn when they want something. And Orihime only wants to be friends."

Ichigo faced Matsumoto, his brows knitted together. "But you're paying me to protect her, not amuse her, right?"

Matsumoto faltered then nodded. She was not accustomed to men being volatile with her. Sure, Gin played games and enjoyed teasing her but unlike all the other men who softened up to her, Ichigo was brutally honest and uncaring of the impression he made.

"Look," said Ichigo. "Maybe this isn't going to work out. Maybe you should go and hire someone more . . . sociable."

Matsumoto pursed her lips, meshing her lipstick together. Somehow, she liked Ichigo's reasoning. "No, you're right. You were hired to protect her and I'm confident you'll do that."

"Also, I need you to drop me off at one of company's branches tomorrow. So I'll be accompanying you tomorrow." Then she stood up and walked out.

**:**

Outside, a storm was approaching. Inside the side house of the Inoue residence, horrific metal music blared from Ichigo's stereo. He stood in the dark, holding his gun. Like the night before, he ejected the round and tried to catch it with the back of his hand. But it was no good so he chambered another round. Again, it was no good.

The song repeated and Ichigo continued to drink. He paced around his bedroom, still attempting to catch the bullet.

He hated himself. Because of him, _she_ had died. The most important person he loved had been murdered because he couldn't protect her. But now he had another chance to protect someone of equal significance and he felt as helpless as before. Nothing was different; Orihime wasn't safe with him around.

She deserved better.

Orihime and Masaki deserved better than him.

Blood filled memories plagued Ichigo's mind. He couldn't take it anymore. If he stuck around, he'd be forced to witness another beautiful person die. It was too much, too much to bear. This was his last resort.

"_Fuck it."_

Hot tears angrily rolled down Ichigo's face as he brought the pistol's barrel to his forehead. It wouldn't matter if he was gone for good, no one would miss him. So Ichigo pulled the trigger.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Simultaneously, three things occurred.

The song cut short.

The rain clouds broke overhead.

And the sound of Orihime's chiming laughter traveled into Ichigo's room.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

But what didn't happen was most important. There was no gun shot, just a click. It was like a hammer against a shell.

Stunned and confused, Ichigo ejected the shell and caught it in the palm of his hand. A small dimple on the back of the bullet was the only thing evidence of his failed attempt. It made no sense at all; he should have been lying on the ground, dead.

Grabbing his cell phone, Ichigo stepped out into the courtyard. The rain was heavy on his back but he did not care. For Ichigo, it rained everyday no matter how much he hated it.

"Ichigo?" answered Urahara on the other end of the line, his tone evidently worried There was no humor in his voice like the other times, he was all serious.

"Have you ever had a nine millimeter round that didn't go off?"

Silence followed for a few seconds. "You mean a misfire?"

"I mean nothing," clarified Ichigo, already drenched from the rain. It was ice cold but he didn't feel a thing, his entire body was numb. "The hammer came down but nothing happened. Only a scratch on the primer."

"I've heard of it," admitted Urahara. "Never happened to me though. Maybe the firing pin's off."

Ichigo was troubled to say the least. "Maybe . . ."

"It's like we used to say: a bullet never lies, it always tells the truth." Urahara paused. "What were you shooting at?"

Ichigo said nothing. The bullet rolled between his calloused hands, a reminder and token of how he cheated death once more.

"Ichigo?" prompted Urahara in concern.

"Sorry I woke you, Kisuke," said Ichigo gruffly and then clicked off the phone. He started towards his place but stopped short.

There she was. Orihime stood in the closed window of her room. The lamp's dim light illuminated her skin, making it glow like a candle's flame. It was as if Ichigo was seeing her for the first time. She looked divine, practically angelic in her white night gown.

Why? Why was Ichigo still alive and breathing? And then he knew the reason. She was right before him. And Ichigo recalled the sound of his demise: her laughter. He had heard Orihime's carefree laugh for the first time at that pivotal moment.

It had not been a coincidence.

Her eyes that matched the sky watched Ichigo in a knowing way. _She knew._ There no doubt about it, Orihime was who kept him alive. Ichigo gazed up at her. A flash of lightning ripped across the horizon and in the next instant, Orihime was gone.

Ichigo turned on his heels and went back inside. With careful hands, he put the special bullet into an old matchbox. Then he tucked it away into the old chest in the drawer.

**:**

Orihime sat in the back seat of the Mercedes, her small hands folded on her lap. She resembled a China doll, still and ladylike. To Ichigo's dismay, there were no sparkling stars in her eyes. Each time he stole a look at the mirror, she stared straight ahead. But when he turned away, Orihime peeked at Ichigo.

Matsumoto sat beside her, flipping through a thick magazine. She was too absorbed in selecting clothes to notice the tense atmosphere.

As they crossed an intersection, a silver Corolla turned right and pulled in thirty meters behind it. The corners of his mouth tugging downward, Ichigo pulled out a scrap of paper from his pocket but he had nothing to write with. "Orihime, do you have a pencil?"

Orihime blinked and then rummaged through her school bag. Silently, she handed one over. Ichigo tried to stay calm to prevent her from catching on. He took it and slowed down to allow the trailing car to get closer. Squinting into the mirror, Ichigo tried to read the license plate.

Orihime wasn't oblivious, she sensed Ichigo's discomfort. She glanced back over her shoulder. It took her one try to memorize the plate. Swiftly, she pulled out her favorite pen and scribbled it down in an innocent looking, peach moleskin journal.

Brake lights flickered ahead and Ichigo lurched to a stop. The Corolla swerved around them and sped off. "Sorry," he grumbled.

Matsumoto muttered an okay, not tearing her attention away from the catalog.

Still, Orihime didn't speak, she merely nodded in acknowledgement. It annoyed Ichigo how hushed she suddenly was. He was seriously regretting his harsh words from yesterday. The desire to hear her voice was unnatural.

Ichigo craned to find the car again. Another Corolla drove by in the opposite direction. There were more and Ichigo realized it was a common and popular car. It relaxed his paranoia.

They pulled up to the school. Ichigo parked the car and stepped out to assist Orihime. Subtly, he watched her kiss Matsumoto's cheek and bid her goodbye.

"Don't forget your towel," reminded Matsumoto.

Orihime stepped out, carrying both a satchel and a duffle bag containing the towel. Ichigo held out her pencil as she brushed past him without a word only pausing to show him her pen, proving that she didn't need or require his help.

"She has swimming practice today," said Matsumoto when Ichigo got back inside. "You'll need to pick her up at the pool."

"Right."

Matsumoto closed her magazine. "I talked to her and she understands. She won't bother you anymore."

Ichigo's knuckles turned white as his grip on the wheel tightened. He should have been relieved or pleased but he only felt let down.

**:**

The company branched Matsumoto worked at was located in downtown Beijing. Like the other buildings surrounding it, the organization had several floors. Ichigo couldn't marshal his thoughts around the idea of Matsumoto being involved with a corporate job. The woman was much too vivacious to work in such a serious setting.

Waiting at the entrance was a lanky man with silver hair. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit and grinned widely when Matsumoto stepped out of the car. Ichigo was reminded of a fox when he got a closer look at the person.

Matsumoto smiled at the man, a twinkle in her eyes. "Gin."

Gin wrapped an arm around her slim waist and stole a kiss from her lips. Matsumoto seemed to sway on her feet and Ichigo was somewhat taken aback that she was interested in such a man. He didn't know the entire story but it spoke volumes that such an obviously attractive woman like her was drawn to someone so plain.

Beside the two were a petite woman with short brown hair and an equally as short young man with white hair. The woman looked embarrassed while the man seemed annoyed at the couple's display of affection.

"This is my fiancé, Gin Ichimaru," introduced Matsumoto after breaking away looking somewhat flushed. "And these are my friends, Momo Hinamori and Toshiro Hitsugaya."

Ichigo nodded at them.

Ichimaru studied Ichigo with interest, not quite hiding his disdain. "Oh, so you're the bodyguard? You used to be, what did they used to call it, a soldier of fortune?"

Ichigo merely nodded.

Ichimaru chuckled. "Does he talk?"

"So scary . . ." mumbled Hinamori to Hitsugaya.

Matsumoto shot Ichimaru a dirty look in reproach. He ignored her and followed Ichigo's gaze. "You see danger out there?" chortled Ichimaru. "The fear's worse than the reality."

Ichigo didn't respond.

Ichimaru's smirk turned condescending. "I always wanted to ask a bodyguard, would you take a bullet for your employer, for Iwao?"

"I wasn't hired to protect Iwao-san," said Ichigo coolly.

"For Orihime then?"

"Gin!" scolded Matsumoto, sending Ichigo an apologetic look. "Please, excuse him."

Ichimaru's words jarred Ichigo. Something snapped as the last of his tolerance waned. "If something happened," said Ichigo brusquely, "my reaction would be fight to protect her. I have skills in that respect. Orihime would benefit from the fact that . . . I'm a soldier."

Gin's leer evaporated. "What kind of answer is that?"

"The answer is the truth," snapped Ichigo. It would be such an easy task to snap Gin in two. "The question is foolish."

Matsumoto smiled in approval of Ichigo's answer. "That will do, Kurosaki-san," dismissed Matsumoto. "I will not be back until tomorrow so please look after Orihime."

Ichigo wasted no time leaving. He got back into the car and swerved from the curve, heading back to Orihime's school.

**:**

The school's indoor pool was impressive, it was up to date and renovated nicely. But it was also loud and chaotic due to the swimmers' practice. Coaches were yelling out instructions to the swimmers who responded stridently.

Several bodyguards were gathered near one end of the pull. They all sensed something dangerous about Ichigo because they all watched him cautiously as he passed by looking for Orihime. It hardly mattered to Ichigo what anyone else thought about him. He only cared about remaining focused and doing his job.

A gun went off.

Ichigo glanced over to see smoke rising from the starting pistol. The swimmers on the ledges all splashed into the water without hesitation except one. Orihime got a late start and was immediately trailing behind.

Orihime was competing in the fifty yard dash and was in fifth place. Her body flowed with the water rather than against it. Each one of her strokes was long and fluid, a familiar grace associated to them. Before Ichigo knew it, Orihime took fourth then third. He walked along beside her, watching her take second effortlessly.

Orihime closed into the wall, striding.

Second place.

Taking a deep breath, Ichigo strolled over to Orihime's lane. She broke from the water panting, an unusual frustrated expression on her face. Disappointment consuming her, Orihime dragged her cap from head and allowed her ridiculously long hair down.

"You're fast."

Orihime jolted and turned to Ichigo. He regretted approaching her so soon considering her current situation. Clad in a tight blue swimsuit, Orihime's rapidly rising chest captured Ichigo's attention.

"I never win."

Ichigo crouched down and offered her a large hand to help her out of the water. She pushed up her goggles, taken aback by his act of kindness. But then she beamed, blinding Ichigo with it brightness. She reached out and he closed his hand securely around hers.

Ichigo hauled her out of pool only to hurry and steady her when she staggered forward into his chest. Automatically, Orihime flinched back, turning scarlet. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine." Ichigo watched Orihime fidget and shift her weight from one foot to the other. It dawned on him that he made the girl uncomfortable. "Is your practice done?"

Orihime nodded and stepped back. "Let me change and we can go."

Ichigo awaited Orihime to reemerge from the locker rooms. Beside him, the pool's water sloshed against the walls. There was something chaotic about its rhythm that reminded him of the workings of his own heart. Ichigo inhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He had decided that he'd _try_. For Orihime, it was the least he could do. It was not her fault that he had unresolved problems. But he'd make sure Orihime was safe as long as she was under his care. Perhaps if he'd tried hard enough, he'd succeed.

"Kurosaki-san?"

Amber eyes snapped open. Orihime stood in front of him dressed in a flowing skirt that reached just above her knees and a chic button up blouse. He could tell she had taken a quick shower by the tangy aroma of body wash that drifted from her pale skin. "Done?"

"Yes."

"Come on then."

Ichigo made sure to shorten his strides to allow Orihime to keep up. Without warning, he reached over and grabbed both her school and duffle bag and ignored her flustered protests.

Making a vain attempt to get back her things, Orihime exclaimed, "Ne, that's not necessary, Kurosaki-san!"

Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly.

Orihime peeked up at Ichigo as confusion washed over her. After speaking with Matsumoto, she had made an attempt to not trouble or annoy Ichigo anymore. However, Ichigo's behavior was different than the day before. Taking a chance, she gathered her courage before it quailed. "So, what should I do?"

Arching a brow, Ichigo glanced at her. "About what?"

"Swimming," clarified Orihime, making sure her eyes were glued to her feet. "I have a meet coming up and I'm entering the hundred and fifty freestyle."

"You tell me. You're the fastest one in the water and the slowest one off the block. The answer's clear, isn't it?"

It was, even Orihime knew it. But she could not help faltering when the gun went off. It was a reflex she could not shake off no matter how hard she tried. With that in mind, Orihime realized she had no chance at betting better than third at the competition.

Subtly, Ichigo watched Orihime become dejected. "Look, just work on it. You're talented enough so it shouldn't be a problem."

Orihime nodded and then smiled brilliantly. It meant a lot to her that Ichigo saw something special within her. "I guess you're right, Kurosaki-san. I'll just train harder."

Ichigo blinked rapidly to readjust his eyesight. Orihime's smile was blinding, a force that challenged the sun. The unconditional trust she offered made him nervous. He was beginning to wonder if he was making a mistake.

"Ne, Kurosaki-san, could you drive me to the sports store?" asked Orihime. "I need a new swimming cap since the one I have can't hold all of my hair anymore."

"Sure."

They reached the parked car and Ichigo opened the front door for Orihime. He surveyed her struggle internally but it didn't take long for her to give in and sit down. Although the drive was relatively quiet, it wasn't unpleasant. Ichigo sensed Orihime's discomfort fading away.

The store Ichigo took Orihime was located near the downtown area. Like a shadow, he trailed behind her. He kept a keen eye on her while she browsed through the store. Ichigo noted how Orihime had the tendency to sidetrack whenever she saw something she thought was fascinating. She was also a bit indecisive, she could not choose between two swim caps.

But that was the least of Ichigo's problems. He did not like the way the male clerk kept following her around and sending her covet glances. When his annoyance reached its limit, Ichigo shot the man a sharp glower that did the trick.

Slowly, Ichigo approached Orihime from behind and caught her mumbling to herself under her breath. Her fine eyebrows were scrunched together as she held both merchandise. "Oh, I can't decide . . . I like the white one but—"

"Just take them both," groused Ichigo.

Orihime looked up, puzzled. "Eh?"

"If you can't make up your mind then take both."

Down casting her large eyes, she apologized. "S-Sorry, this must be irritating for you."

"I just think I should get you home."

After Orihime went to the cash register and made her purchase, Ichigo escorted her out. His eyes expertly scanned the cars and people. Suddenly the traffic seemed to finish, expanding itself. The street turned ominously quiet, leaving a ringing in Ichigo's ear.

A police car came prowling down the empty street.

Then Ichigo spotted a business coming out of the doorway from the building across the street. A bodyguard flanked him, speaking into a two-way radio.

Ichigo's sixth sense kicked in as a Mercedes 500 pulled up to collect the business man. The police cruiser disappeared around the corner even as two men started toward the man. Then a second car squealed while it turned the corner behind the Mercedes.

Gun fire erupted.

Ichigo's wrapped an arm around Orihime's slim waist, sweeping her off her feet. The next thing Orihime knew, she was flattened on the ground with Ichigo atop of her, shielding her.

"Don't move," he ordered, pulling out his gun. "And don't look anywhere but me."

Orihime obliged, focusing on Ichigo's chocolate eyes. They flashed into something cold and hard as an instinct overcame him. The gunshots echoed in Orihime's ears but the sound of heart overpowered them. Chest to chest, Orihime felt Ichigo's own heart beating. His was deep, like a lion's while hers was nimble like a bird's

The bodyguard beside the businessman was instantly killed. The men in the Mercedes each unleashed a magazine before they were shot. A scrambling pedestrian fell to the floor, dead.

A gasp escaped Orihime as the glass window above them shattered. Panic erupted and her body began trembling uncontrollably. "K-Kurosaki-san—!"

"Don't look," growled Ichigo, grabbing the back of Orihime's head and pressing her face into his neck. "Stay still."

To distract herself, Orihime kept busy by memorizing Ichigo's scent and heat.

The business man was grabbed roughly and hustled into the back of the second car. The tires screeched as it raced off wildly.

Slowly, Ichigo rose, cradling Orihime against him. She turned her head and felt her breath catch in her throat. A bodyguard was sprawled out on the sidewalk, a pool of blood encircling him.

Frantic, Orihime began struggling, trying to break free. "Oh, God—I—I—He needs help! He needs help, Kurosaki-san! I have to help him or he'll die—!"

Ichigo held back a thrashing Orihime. "You can't help him, Orihime."

Orihime sobbed. "_Please!_ I can't let him die!"

Ichigo tightened his grip on her. "There's nothing you can do."

Orihime shut her eyes tight and slumped. She buried herself into Ichigo's shoulder, still shaking. The only thing she could do was mumble numerous prayers she hoped would be heard.

**:**

Ichigo's jacket was draped over Orihime's shoulder as she sat in the front seat of the car. Through the window, she saw Ichigo wrap up his statement with a member of the judicial police. Finally, he slipped into the driver's side and immediately left the scene.

"Murdering people in the street. . ." whispered Orihime, shaking her head in disbelief. "You had your gun, why didn't you shoot them?"

"That had nothing to do with me or you," answered Ichigo. "Besides, if I started shooting they would've killed us both."

Orihime pulled several slivers of glass from her hair and looked from them to Ichigo. It was hitting her, how close to death they just were. The shock was starting to wear off at a rapid pace.

"A minimum close protection team consists of four men for high threat targets and environments. Even in a low threat situation, you need at least two guards plus a security trained driver."

Orihime dropped her head, her sheathe of ginger hair hiding her face. What little control she had left vanished as sparkling tears pooled in her wide eyes. Violent tremors attacked Orihime while a whimper escaped her lips.

Ichigo went rigid and turned to her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"A-Ano, Kurosaki-san," said Orihime unevenly. She pushed the heals of her tiny hands to her eyes in a desperate effort to halt her crying. "I'll stop. Just—just give me a second—"

Instantly, Ichigo pulled over. "Orihime—"

"I'm sorry. It's just that I'm relieved and very sad," cried Orihime. "I'm glad we're safe. I'm very happy that you're not hurt or anything—"

Long fingers brushed back the curtain hair ruining Ichigo's view. He locked gazes with Orihime, her expressive eyes memorizing him. He couldn't help but be reminded of the night sky as he looked at them. They were filled comets, dazzling stars and supernovas but there were also black holes, darkness and never ending space.

"K-Kurosaki-san—?"

"Don't cry," breathed Ichigo. "You're alright now. We're both fine."

"Thank you," whispered Orihime. "Thank you so much for protecting me, Kurosaki-san."

Her voice was genuine and Ichigo found himself being drawn in by it. She was too much to ignore. And all that mattered was that Orihime was safe and unharmed. Ichigo didn't want to imagine if anything had happened to her.

Orihime took a shaky breath and forced a smile. "I'm glad you're my bodyguard."

The need to touch her overtook Ichigo. It scared him how breakable she looked and he had to make sure he hadn't failed at protecting her. So with great care, he reached over skimmed the curve of Orihime's jaw.

Her response was not what Ichigo had anticipated. Her sooty lashes swept against her finely carved cheekbones as she closed her eyes and leaned into Ichigo's touch.

Reason returned and Ichigo retracted his hand. Swallowing painfully, he shifted the car's gears. "I need to get you home."

Orihime ignored her eyes stinging again. "O-Okay . . ."

**:**

Ichigo sat in the chair by his bedroom window, a glass of scotch in hand. For hours he remained there until night crept upon him. He gazed at Orihime's dancing curtains with a serious look etched onto his strong features.

Ever since Orihime arrived home, he had been worried. No one beside the help was present so Ichigo was stuck to leave her alone. It had taken some time but she eventually calmed. Still, a knot had formed in Ichigo's gut.

On the other side of the transparent drapes, Orihime's soft silhouette emerged. Her body was made up of luscious curves that Ichigo could visibly see by her shadow. Frustrated, Ichigo ran a hand through his messy hair and tugged angrily.

"Shit."

He wanted her. He wanted her even though he was fully aware that he was not worthy. No matter how hard Ichigo tried, he could not shake off the longing he suddenly felt for the girl. It was the first time in years that he felt an emotion other than malice and grief.

Ichigo downed the rest of his drink and then walked over to switch on the television. Idly, he clicked through the channels, pausing on a news report. A woman with short dark hair and violet eyes was speaking about organized crime.

"_This is an activity of organized crime; it's not a random kidnapping. These are not political like in Thailand . . ."_

Sighing, Ichigo turned of the T.V. and laid in the dark. There was no chance of him falling to sleep easily so he grabbed a couple of pills from his nightstand and swallowed them dry.

**:**

The room was covered in shadows that slithered their way to the sleeping figure in the plush bed. Underneath fresh sheets, Orihime twitched and jerked. It was one of her worst nights and she was powerless to break out of her nightmares. Perhaps it was her overactive imagination that made the horrid dreams vivid and real.

With no other option, Orihime relived memories she had locked up in order to keep what little sanity she had left.

When she was eleven she heard a definite _crack_. It had startled her out so she slipped out of bed and went to see what it was. At the time, Iwoa had been gone on another one of business trip and was alone with her mother, Jun Inoue.

Orihime treaded into the parlor, her footsteps ghostly. It was where Jun spent most of her time drinking. Ever since Sora's death, Orihime hardly saw her mother sober.

"Okaa-san?" called Orihime timidly as she stepped into the room.

That's when she smelled the metallic aroma. Splattered across the walls was crimson blood. A pool of it was growing at her feet. It took her a moment to realize that her mother was dead on the floor and it was her who brought her own death.

Gasping, Orihime woke up. She checked the clock, reading the hour. It was just shy of four in the morning and no traces of light were visible. But that was always the case; it was always darkest before the dawn.

After some deep breathing, Orihime pulled her teddy bear to her voluptuous bosom. Before slipping back to sleep, she glanced out the window to Ichigo's housing. Recalling the gentle way he stroked her face made her face turn pink.

Although he appeared cold and aloof, Orihime concluded that Ichigo was a lot kinder than he let on.

"Thank you God," murmured Orihime. "Thank you for giving me Kurosaki-san."


	3. that heart of hers longed for him

**notes: **So this chapter is a little shorter than the others but that was because I had to stop at a certain point. I tried my best with the whole IchiHime bond here; right now they're taking baby steps but of course they both still have their own problems to deal with. I don't think this turned out exactly how I wanted. Oh well. But I do promise the next chapter will be better. Special thanks to the most recent reviewers!

Let me know what you think.

**rating: **T+

**disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_that heart of hers longed for him_

**:**

With bricks for feet, Orihime trudged into her private bathroom. Her usually lively eyes were heavy, drooping babyishly on the sides. A towel like headband held back her hair from her face. Dazed, Orihime began brushing her teeth.

To awaken her senses, Orihime cupped the chilly tap water with her tiny hands and splashed her face. Immediately, the fatigue that had latched itself onto her bones was warded off. Orihime refused to feel down on her day off from and school. Now that she had Ichigo as a bodyguard, Orihime could go out instead of being forced to remain confined in the lonely house.

A week had passed by since their near-death experience and Orihime felt like her relationship with Ichigo was getting better. Rangiku had genuinely thanked Ichigo for his brave acts and since Iwoa was still away on business, Orihime had not bothered mentioning the incident to him; she didn't want to hassle him.

Orihime went ahead and got dressed, trading her mushroom pattern pajamas for a simple black long-sleeved shirt and an old pair of high-waist shorts. After brushing out her blanket of hair, she scampered downstairs for breakfast.

Settled on the counter was a meal already prepared by Tessai. It consisted of a warm bowl of miso soup, nori, and steamed rice doused in wasabi. Orihime happily complied with her talking stomach and ate to her heart's content.

The antique clock hanging on the wall indicated it was half-past eight. Orihime rubbed her lips together, wondering if Ichigo was already up. For some reason, she assumed Ichigo was an early riser.

Hopping up, Orihime cleaned her plates and then scurried out to the courtyard. On her way to Ichigo's quarters, she waved at Jinta and Ururu, the two youngsters who worked on the estate for extra money.

Orihime stepped into the shadowy building and quietly headed upstairs. A couple of filtered rays of sunlight were her silent audience as she made her way to the second floor. When the flights of stairs ended and she was faced with the wooden door to Ichigo's bedroom, Orihime hesitated.

Taking a deep breath, Orihime reached over and knocked. Seconds ticked by without a response. Orihime tried again, knocking a little louder. "Kurosaki-san?"

Silence.

Suddenly worried, Orihime instinctively turned the knob and was surprised to find it unlocked. She paused, unsure of what to do. "Kurosaki-san?" she called again.

Nothing.

Orihime pushed open the door and stepped into the room. She took a couple of steps inside and then stiffened. Blood rushed up to Orihime's face, turning her pink. Mortified, she covered her face. A muffled gasped escaped her lips. "O-Oh, my God—!"

Ichigo was fast asleep _naked_. Or, so it seemed. His chest and long legs were exposed. A blanket was covering his middle and Orihime hoped her was wearing _something_.

It took time for Orihime to calm down her thundering heart. On its own accord, it had attempted to escape from her chest and take refuge with Ichigo. Still flushed, she tentatively approached him.

A wrinkle was etched between Ichigo brows even in his sleep. Orihime giggled slightly at the sight. Something about his scowl was endearing. Besides that, he appeared relaxed. Staring at Ichigo knocked Orihime breathless. She liked his jaw line and thick eyelashes. It felt like something was expanding within her, something warm and powerful.

Shyly, Orihime placed a palm on Ichigo's shoulder and nudged it. "Kurosaki-san—?"

Ocher eyes snapped open. Instincts overtook Ichigo, causing him to grab Orihime and forcefully pin her down on the bed. His scarred and large hands wrapped themselves around her petite neck.

Wide smokey eyes gazed back at Ichigo. They were the sweetest eyes he had ever seen and were the brightest of all the colors. Breathless, she whimpered, "Kuro. . . saki . . ."

Realization hit Ichigo hard. He froze in horror, disgusted with himself. _"Oh, shit."_

Orihime was soft underneath Ichigo. Her hair was strewn over the pillow like a fiery halo. The blush adorning her cheeks was growing and her breasts were pressed against him. There were so many little details about her that enthralled Ichigo but what had him speechless was her expression.

Orihime was not scared or angry. Instead, she looked bemused and somewhat empathetic.

As though burned, Ichigo relinquished his hold on Orihime. "Fuck, I'm sorry, Orihime—I didn't mean to—"

Orihime swallowed painfully and righted herself. It was a relief to have the pressure off her airway. "It's okay," she said gently. "I shouldn't have woken you up that way."

But it wasn't her fault, the blame was his. Ichigo felt terrible as he saw angry red marks sprouting on Orihime's neck. He had _hurt_ her, he physically harmed her. If he hadn't been careful he would've snapped her neck like a twig.

Ichigo stood, distancing himself. Angry, he paced back and forth with guilt on his broad shoulders. "God dammit," he growled through clenched teeth.

"A-Ano, it's alright," murmured Orihime, avoiding looking directly at Ichigo. To her relief, he was wearing boxers but it was still too much for her. "I'm the one who should be the one apologizing. I wanted you to spend the day out with me so came in here without permission—"

"No."

Long lashes fluttered. "H-Huh?"

Seeing red, Ichigo slammed his fist against the wall. He heard Orihime squeak behind him._ "Ichigo!"_

The sound of his given name made Ichigo rigid. He barely registered the hole in the wall or the stinging vibrating through his swollen knuckles. Before he knew, Orihime had advanced and cradled his injured hand. Tears began forming in her eyes as she stared at the blood dripping down Ichigo's fingertips.

"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly. "But please, don't do that. Don't hurt yourself that way."

It was wrong. She shouldn't have been fussing over him. Just moments ago he was nearly strangling her. "Stop, Orihime. Don't—"

"Is it broken?" asked Orihime, ignoring Ichigo. "I don't feel a break. Let me wrap it for you. Sado keeps wrap and bandages in the shed, just let me go get it—"

"Enough, Orihime," snapped Ichigo. He yanked his hand out of her possession. "Don't you get it? I could've _killed_ you!"

Shaken by his feral tone, Orihime took a step back. "K-Kurosaki-san—"

"Get out."

"B-But your hand—"

"OUT!"

Ichigo moved swiftly. Orihime could only struggle with the best of her ability but Ichigo grabbed her and forcefully pushed her out of the room.

"Wait!"

The door slammed on her stricken face.

**:**

_Tick._

A small, futile pebbled ricocheted off Ichigo's window. He paid no heed to it, not allowing the slightest flinch as an acknowledgement. Ignoring the sound, Ichigo focused on getting himself a drink. Using his good hand, he uncapped the half-filled bottle of scotch.

The injured hand was left untended. Ichigo felt no desire to take care of it. He left it alone to endure the aching pain as punishment for his earlier acts. How could he mend the hand that just been on the verge of chocking Orihime?

"I'm such a fucking monster."

Right when Ichigo raised the bottle to his lips another pebble hit the window. More precisely, it was actually a decent sized rock. It was surprising that it didn't crack the glass.

"_Oi!"_ hollered a rather loud and obnoxious voice. "I know you're in there, you orange haired buffoon!"

Ichigo was aware that he was making a grave mistake by going over to his window and opening it. He glanced down and saw a red-haired child glowering up at him. Beside the kid was a slight, dark-haired girl who was clutching a broom.

"What do you want?" snapped Ichigo.

Ichigo's tone didn't please Jinta. Immediately, he shouted back, "I want you man up and apologize to Orihime for whatever you did!"

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. He wouldn't tolerate backtalk, especially from a _child_. The brat dared to boss him around like he was superior. "It doesn't concern you."

Jinta snorted impudently. "When it involves jerks like you it does! Orihime ran into the house looking upset!"

Hearing that he distressed Orihime didn't help Ichigo. The shame he had grew, making his stomach coil. These sensations he felt were unpleasant. It had been a long time since he felt remorse for a person other than his mother.

"Look kid," grounded out Ichigo. "Mind your own business."

Before Jinta could retort, Ichigo wasted no time and roughly shut his window. Regardless, Jinta still continued to yell at him at the top of his lungs. "Dammit, I'm not done speaking to you!"

Sighing, Ichigo rummaged through his closet and threw on some clothes together. He wouldn't admit it but Jinta was right. The mess he was in was his fault and he wasn't going to simply stand by without cleaning it up. Somehow Ichigo would make amends with Orihime.

Opening his door, Ichigo paused just in time. Had he taken a step, Ichigo would've stepped on the little first aide kit settled on the wooden floor. He kneeled down and picked up the plastic case that was undoubtedly from Orihime. Shaking his head, he placed it on top of his dresser.

If he didn't fix things soon, the guilt would wreck Ichigo.

Without further delay, Ichigo stepped out into the courtyard. Sweeping past an explosive Jinta, Ichigo made his way into the Inoue household. Iwoa was still away on business and Matsumoto was staying with Gin, leaving Orihime alone with the help. Ichigo treaded inside cautiously, listening for any indication of where Orihime was.

The first floor was the only part of the house that Ichigo had figured. He had never gone upstairs, respecting the boundaries set by Iwoa. Free from any protest, Ichigo trudged up to the second floor.

An eerie silence filled Ichigo's ears. It wasn't just the fact that he couldn't hear Orihime, it was the house itself, it was lifeless. He recalled old bittersweet memories of his home in Japan where every moment in his own house was lively and animated due to his flamboyant father and sisters. But in reality, the real reason why the day was constantly vibrant was because of his mother, she had been the center of his entire world, attracting people like the sun.

Like Orihime.

Ichigo forced himself the breakaway from that trail of thought. His mind was confused enough already because of her; there was no need to make matters worse.

Ichigo reached the room that he presumed was Orihime's but found it to be empty. For the slightest second, he hesitated to exam the area. Her room was neat and clean, excluding a few tossed pieces clothing and some scattered books. It was innocent enough with its faded blue walls and cross hanging above her headboard. Yet that bothered Ichigo to a large degree.

Mouth turned down, Ichigo moved on. There was still no sound of Orihime and it was beginning to worry him. He continued down the elongated hallway until something in peripheral vision captured his attention.

The entrance to attic wasn't properly in place.

A satisfied smirk pulled at the corner of Ichigo's mouth. "Found you."

**:**

It still smelled like him. Despite being boxed, the polo still had Sora's scent. Orihime pressed the shirt to her nose and inhaled deeply. After all the time that passed by, she could remember how strong Sora's hugs were. He'd squeeze her tight, as though trying to touch her soul and it would make something warm bloom inside her.

It amazed Orihime how much that heart of hers longed for him. It was primal, a necessity to survive. But it was pointless and went to waste. All it did was put a strain on her already damaged spirit.

"I miss you," she murmured softly. "I miss you _so_ much, Onii-chan."

The attic was the only place Orihime could freely display her emotions. It was cluttered with things her father had forgotten or didn't want. There were old containers holding some of Sora's and Jun's belongings. When the loneliness became too much to bear, Orihime would sneak up to the abandoned attic and replay special moments she had tucked away in her mind for safe keeping.

Too preoccupied, Orihime failed to notice the tall figure looming behind her.

Ichigo stared down at her with half-lidded eyes. She was perched on the floor with her legs folded underneath. Surrounded in a room full of shadows, Orihime was the only illuminating thing.

Crouching down, Ichigo placed a hand on her back. Orihime remained still, not flinching or cringing from his touch like he anticipated. Her trust in him was unexpected; Ichigo was accustomed to people's fear rather than confidence. "Orihime."

His voice was rugged and it tugged at Orihime like a calling she could not deny. Slowly, she craned her neck and locked gazes with Ichigo. The stars could not compare with her eyes as she said, "You remind me of Onii-chan."

Although he had his own questions, Ichigo remained silent to show he would listen to whatever she had to say.

"I know that sounds strange," murmured Orihime, a warm rosy shade blossoming on her cheekbones, "but it's true. He was strong like you and very kind." Then she gave a tinkering laugh, a kind that sounded like a question that Ichigo wanted to spend his whole life answering. "And you both put up with my weirdness."

Ichigo moved his hand to her head and ruffled the silky tresses. "You're not weird."

"But I am," protested Orihime, her nose scrunching up as though she was remembering a rather unpleasant recollection. "I've always been an unusual girl."

He hungrily searched her wholesome face. "There's nothing wrong with that."

A wide grin erupted from Orihime. His words reminded her of precious advice Sora had told her once when cruel children bullied her because of her rare hair color: _So what if you're different, why would you want to be like everybody else?_

Positive feelings shined through Orihime's face like sunbeams and Ichigo figured that was why she always looked so lovely. "Kurosaki-san really is thoughtful."

Ichigo averted his attention and stood. "Let's go. I'll take you wherever you want to go."

Orihime stared at him in complete awe, not quite sure if she heard him correctly. "R-Really?"

He nodded once. "Yes, so hurry up."

Obediently, Orihime hopped up and neatly put back Sora's shirt. By the time she turned around, Ichigo had already jumped down the entryway. As Orihime scooted her way down, he waited and carefully placed his hands on her sides to help.

"Y-You don't have to!" stammered out Orihime. Frantic, she waved her arms wildly around, nearly hitting Ichigo. "I'm _very_ heavy!"

"Yeah. _Right_," grunted Ichigo, carrying her. Then, without any difficulty, he gingerly placed her onto her feet.

Orihime avoided Ichigo's perusal, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The hallway suddenly felt uncomfortably hot. "T-Thank you."

Pocketing his hands, Ichigo nodded again. Without another word, he indicated for her to follow and she did so gladly, a private little smile playing on her lips. Somehow Orihime knew she was safe beside him, the same way she knew she had been safe in her brother's care.

**:**

The flee market seemed to breathe air into Orihime. Instantaneously, her energy level skyrocketed, surpassing Ichigo's standards. As free as the wind, Orihime scampered from stand to stand, examining trinkets and antiques with wonder. Someone like her didn't require much to be entertained. Ichigo actually found it refreshing that she was enthralled by worn out and overlooked items.

"Ah! Look at that!" exclaimed Orihime, pointing at a grandfather clock. "Isn't it cool?"

Broad shoulders shrugged indifferently. "I guess."

Orihime squealed happily when she spotted a vintage record player. "Wow! So amazing~!"

"Hey," prompted Ichigo. "Don't run."

"Hai!"

To Ichigo's exasperation and amusement, Orihime stumbled over a minute crack and barely caught her balance before she could hit the floor. Dark red hair whipped behind her like flames as she glanced back at Ichigo. Sheepishly, she said, "I'm okay!"

Shaking his head, Ichigo trailed behind her languidly.

"Mister!"

Ichigo paused and glimpsed around, perplexed.

"Down here!"

Obliging the directions, Ichigo fixed his attention downward. A boy with shaggy dark hair peered up at him, a box holding candy bars in his wiry arms. There was something arrogant in the child's face that immediately annoyed Ichigo.

"What do you want?" drawled Ichigo.

"I'm selling candy," he answered. "Buy some!"

"No thanks."

"Aw, come on!" pressed the kid. "I'm raising money to buy a new bike and I need to sell all of these!"

"That's too bad."

"Jeez," he sneered. "Who peed in your coffee?"

Ichigo wondered why children—specifically _boys_—had the tendency to harass him. He knew he wasn't great with kids, most of them were scared by him but there were always those few who felt the need to push his patience.

"I'm not interested," said Ichigo.

"It's not gonna kill you," persisted the child. "Just buy a chocolate bar. You do like chocolate, don't you?"

Ichigo grimaced. "If I buy one, will you scram?"

The boy nodded fervently.

Grumbling under his breath, Ichigo pulled out money from his wallet and handed it over. "Give me five chocolate bars. Keep the change."

After the exchange, the boy thanked Ichigo and dashed away.

Tucking the treats in his jacket, Ichigo scanned the premises, searching for Orihime. His eyes tightened when he failed to find her amidst all the countenances. "Fucking shit."

Ichigo brushed past strangers, craning his neck to and fro to capture a glimpse of ginger hair. He retraced her steps, checking stands and booths that she particularly liked. A bubble of panic brewed in Ichigo's stomach as he time ticked by. Desperate, he asked a few vendors who were only unhelpful.

"Orihime!" he called out. "Orihime!"

Some people wavered and looked at him warily but none of them included Orihime. Ichigo broke into a jog, checking the surroundings for some sort of hint of where she went.

Then the force crushing his chest lifted. _"Orihime."_

She split from the group encircling the band of street performers. Her gleeful expression transformed to one of concern when she got a good look at him. "Eh? What's the matter, Kurosaki-san?"

Jaw clenched, Ichigo advanced on her, his anger a physical sensation. "What the hell were you thinking? You don't just run off like that, you need to stay nearby at all times."

"B-But these mecha-awesome street dancers showed up and I wanted to watch them and you were busy talking to someone so I thought—"

"Well you thought wrong," snapped Ichigo.

"Ano, I didn't mean to make you upset, Kurosaki-san," amended Orihime, clasping her hands together and bowing her head. "I'm really sorry."

Ichigo was seriously in over his head. In a matter of seconds he had lost her. The only way for him to have a chance was to lock her somewhere safe. "Just don't let it happen again," griped Ichigo. "I can't risk losing you."

"Okay . . ." Orihime's tender eyed flickered up at Ichigo, pleading. "I'm really am sorry, Kurosaki-san. Please, don't be mad at me."

He couldn't stand the way she assumed it was her fault. She didn't seem to understand how frustrating it was for him. If he wasn't vigilant, he'd lose her in an instant. "I'm not mad at you. I'm simply mad at myself."

This puzzled Orihime. "For what?"

"For letting you out of my sight," answered Ichigo.

"I'll do better next time!" vowed Orihime, determination imprinted on her face. "I promise!"

Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, Ichigo muttered, "Yeah, do that." He took a deep breath to collect himself, reigning in his emotions and temper. There was no need to lash out on Orihime when he was the one responsible. "Let's go. Where do you want to go next?"

The question sparked contemplation from Orihime. Crossing her arms, she pensively tapped her chin. "Hmm," she mused, her foot wiggling. "Well, there is this wonderful café near the park . . ."

"Then let's go."

Orihime skipped genially to Ichigo's side. "You know, they have the _best_ doughnuts there," she commented offhand. "Oh, and you should try their hot chocolate. It's sweet and they add these cute little marshmallows~!"

"Huh."

Ichigo continued to listen to Orihime's ramblings, nodding every so often to show he wasn't ignoring her. He led her to the parking lot where the car was and assisted her inside. Sitting down in the driver's seat, he slipped on his sun glasses.

**:**

By the time Ichigo took Orihime back home, it was mid-afternoon. The girl had eaten a great deal, surprising Ichigo. But she was content throughout the ordeal, giggling and telling silly stories. Somehow, he had an enjoyable time.

Pulling up to the estate, Ichigo instantly noticed Iwoa's car parked in the driveway.

Orihime shifted in her seat. "He's home."

Ichigo glanced at Orihime from the corner of his eye. Somehow she shrank, her frame collapsing. There was an uncharacteristic wrinkle between her brows. Then the light in her eyes dulled. Frowning, he said, "You don't sound happy about that."

Orihime swallowed and looked down. "I don't know. He just doesn't like me."

Ichigo couldn't believe that but as he thought it over it was possible. Seldom was Iwoa ever around and he'd never actually seen firsthand how they interacted with each other. But the man _was_ paying him to protect his daughter . . . even though it was Rangiku who had demanded Ichigo's presence in the first place.

"You're his daughter, Orihime," said Ichigo, parking the car. "Why wouldn't he like you?"

Orihime rubbed her lips together, words dangling on the edge. How could she explain to Ichigo that she was everything Iwao despised? And how could she confess that she harbored resentment in return? No. He didn't need to know the dirty details.

"Never mind," she murmured. "It's nothing."

Ichigo escorted her inside the house where Iwoa awaited them. He called for them into the parlor and Orihime reluctantly obliged. Ichigo watched carefully as she bowed at her father.

"Otou-san."

Iwao nodded and then turned to Ichigo. "Rangiku told me of your job well done. Thank you."

Ichigo remained silent.

Iwao cleared his throat and then addressed Orihime. "Tomorrow evening we'll be attending a party. I want you to spend your day preparing yourself. I'll make sure Rangiku will be here to help you get ready."

The color drained from Orihime's face but she uttered a confirmation. "May ask who will be attending?"

"You will be introduced to Hisagi," answered Iwao. "But I'll have Rangiku inform you with all you need to know tomorrow."

"Right," whispered Orihime, a lump forming in her throat. She recognized her father's hint as a dismissal, so after bowing once more, she took her leave and went straight to her bedroom.

Once she left, Ichigo spoke up. "What about school?"

Iwao chuckled. "What about it?"

"Doesn't she need to go?"

Iwao got up and grabbed a bottle of wine from the bar. "A girl like Orihime doesn't need school. It's only purpose is to keep her entertained for the meantime."

Ichigo's hands fisted. "Keep her entertained?"

Iwao offered Ichigo a drink but was declined. "Do you seriously think Orihime needs an education? Her only concern is to get married to a suitable man and you and I both know she has no trouble capturing men's attention. With some pruning, she'll be a fitting wife."

The way Iwao spoke infuriated Ichigo. The man regarded his daughter as property rather than his own flesh and blood. Ichigo drew a sharp breath. "I presume I will be accompanying her to this event?"

"But of course," said Iwao, scrutinizing Ichigo. "So make sure to dress appropriately."


	4. such a beautiful mess

**notes: **So, I hope it was clear in the last chapter why Ichigo nearly attacked Orihime. I got that idea from The Lucky One and I added it here. I also added a Vampire Knight scene here as well. Perhaps you'll recognize it. And umm, I sort of got carried away here with Hisagi. I'm really not sure how it turned out. . .

Besides that, who else is having all these feelings over the latest chapter of Bleach? I mean, ah, Ichigo is just one of everything, isn't he?

Anyways, thank you so much to the reviewers! They were great and encouraged me to produce this chapter faster than usual. They truly mean a lot to me.

You'll be getting some answers to your questions. I worked extra hard so please leave your feedback.

**rating: **T+

**disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_such a beautiful mess_

**:**

Sitting in the grand bathtub, Orihime idly skimmed her fingertips across the water's surface and watched the ripples that ensued. The bubbles, scented body washes and soaps had all dissolved, leaving the water hazy. Minutes passed and she stayed still, unable to find the strength to move. In truth, she would rather sink down to the darkest depths and never resurface.

Closing her eyes, Orihime tilted her head back and buried herself deeper. It was funny how warm cold water could feel after a while.

"I wish I was a mermaid," she said quietly. "That way I'd have a tail and fins and not worry about drowning it I fall asleep."

Someone knocked on her bathroom door. "Are you almost done, Orihime?" asked Rangiku from the other side. "We still have a lot to do."

Orihime took a few second before replying, "Y-Yeah, I just have to rinse off."

"Okay," said Rangiku. "Don't take too long."

Reluctantly, Orihime stood and stepped out of the tub. Using a towel, she twisted up her hair and then slipped on a robe. She then went into her bedroom where Rangiku awaited, already dressed in a red, strapless piece that clung onto her body like a second skin.

When Rangiku eyes fell on her, her mouth formed into a tight line. "Oh, dear," she breathed. "You look paler than usual."

Orihime blinked. "I d-do?"

Rangiku nodded. "Are you feeling ill?"

"No, I'm fine," assured Orihime, despite the fact that she felt the complete opposite. It was still early and she was already tired. In fact, she had a feeling the day was going to be a long one.

"Really?" pressed Rangiku, her critical blue eyes moving over Orihime's face. The girl was never thrilled about attending classy parties and it showed but today Orihime looked _unwell_. "Because if you don't, I can tell Iwao and—"

"No," she said, straightening up. "He'll get mad if I don't go."

Rangiku's gaze softened, feeling sympathy for Orihime. She was too young to experiencing the woes of an adult. There was nothing Rangiku wanted more than to free Orihime from the life she was pressed to endure. But Rangiku was bounded as well and was stuck standing by and watching.

"Here," said Rangiku, motioning to Orihime's desk and vanity mirror where she set up specific beauty products. "I bought you a new lotion. Put that on, as well as that perfume you wore at last month's fundraiser."

Orihime nodded, a numb sensation expanding throughout her body. It was powerful, allowing her to runaway to her mind where carefully constructed barriers were put up. The only way to handle a day such as this one was to take it one step at a time. If done any different, she'd most definitely break.

"Well, alright," said Rangiku, heading out. "Don't push yourself."

**:**

Donning a tasteful black tailored suit, Ichigo examined the pristine piano within the Inoue household. It had been recently polished to the point that he could see his own reflection. His usual messy hair had been tamed to an extent—Ichigo had learned a long time ago that it was a pointless feat to even try. But dressed up he was sharp-looking and striking, a devastating contrast to his day-to-day appearance.

"Hmm, you do clean up nice."

Rangiku appeared from the shaded doorway, looking somewhat grim. Strolling over, she gestured toward the piano. "Orihime absolutely adores this old thing."

"She's talented," mentioned Ichigo. "Who taught her?"

"Her brother, Sora." Rangiku took a meaningful pause, debating whether or not to entrust Ichigo with this piece of information. Believing that he had earned the right, she went on to say, "The piano was actually his gift to her."

Ichigo spared Rangiku a sideward glance. The woman's face was exempt of any of its usual vivaciousness. Evidently, she was anxious and stressed. "What happened to him, Matsumoto?"

Rangiku pressed a key on the piano. "He died in a car accident when Orihime was a child."

Frowning, Ichigo asked, "And her mother?"

"The loss was too much for Jun and committed suicide a year later."

Ichigo's expression darkened. A familiar gut-wrenching sensation overcame him, causing his to remember _blood, so much blood_. It hurt most knowing that it was his own mother's and that he had failed her.

"My condolences for your sister," said Ichigo. He had been in Matsumoto's place and knew there were no words that eased the pain. Time could pass but the wound still left ugly scars.

Smiling sadly, Rangiku said, "I appreciate it but Jun wasn't my sister."

Ichigo's brows furrowed, utterly puzzled. He was certain Iwoa wasn't Matsumoto's brother for two obvious reasons: her last name was not Inoue and they shared no similar physical traits. "Then why do you call Orihime your niece?"

"Because I love her," said Rangiku affectionately, tinkering with the piano keys. Then she hesitated, her fingers lingering on a specific note. "I hate to admit this but Iwao is a distant relative of mine. His father and my father are cousins, you see."

Ichigo absorbed what just heard, trying to marshal and put the pieces together. With the few scraps he's attained, Ichigo was managing to comprehend and gain a better overview of Orihime's secret life.

Rangiku turned to Ichigo expectantly. "Now that I've told you all this, I imagine you'll take good care of Orihime."

"I will."

A clever smirk twisted Rangiku's lips at Ichigo's strong response. "Good."

Sensing a mischievous air forming around Rangiku, Ichigo cleared coughed. "Who exactly will be attending this party, Matsumoto?"

"Well," began Rangiku, "this is a high profile event so they'll be many business owners and representatives. Orihime will be socializing with them. You are to keep an eye on her, especially when she's among men; I don't want them getting too close to her."

Ichigo felt his cross attitude worsening. Just the idea of Orihime surrounded by other men got under his skin. He had no idea how he'd get through an evening of observing the whole ordeal without smashing in someone's face. "Is that likely to happen?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," answered Rangiku, an uncharacteristic wrinkle growing above her eyes. "The older men tend get rowdy after having too many drinks."

A repulsive visual entered Ichigo's mind, one of Orihime being harassed by intoxicated men twice her age. With a bad taste in his mouth, he grumbled, "Don't you think she's too young?"

As though offended, Rangiku snapped, "Of course I do, Kurosaki. But I have no say in this whatsoever; Iwoa has made sure of that. He has his own plan for Orihime and it is in his own interests not hers. Do you have any idea how many strings I've had to pull to keep her off the market this long?"

Ichigo was somewhat taken aback by Rangiku's spark of temper. There was in fact a fierce protectiveness within her that was well hidden behind her gaudy attitude.

A meager maid entered, interrupting the two of them. "Matsumoto-san?"

Rangiku huffed an irritated breath and faced the maid. "Yes?"

"Orihime is ready for you," she said. "Would you like me to take up her dress?"

Rangiku nodded and then made her move, leaving Ichigo behind without a second glance.

**:**

Breathing was becoming a difficult task for Orihime. She was growing faint, like her mind was finally going to abandon her. Gripping the edge of her bedpost, she told herself, "You're okay. You're okay."

It had taken a while but she managed to collect herself piece by piece. When Rangiku returned, she assisted Orihime into her dress, a specially made garment of fine black material. The neckline's cut was low but tight, pushing up her cleavage. Her arms were covered by long, tailored sleeves while her legs were generously exposed, the flowing skirt short from the front and trailing long from the back.

Getting to work, Rangiku combed out Orihime's hair and snugly rolled them into large curlers. Then she applied her make-up with practiced hands, turning her lashes into feather dusters, lips into rose petals and cheeks into flushing warmth.

By the time Rangiku finished, every inch of Orihime was prepped and primed. Her hair was left down in magnificent curls. Her skin was pale and sprinkled with shimmering lotion.

"Put these on," instructed Rangiku, pulling out a pair of crimson high-heels from a frilly bag. They weren't too extreme, only holding an inch in height but they did the trick.

"I can't wear my clips today, can I?" asked Orihime, looking sadly at her jewelry box.

Rangiku shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Iwoa will confiscate them if he sees."

Orihime swallowed, understanding the risk. She did not dare putting her beloved pins on the line, they were much too important. She'd just have to endure the night without them hidden somewhere on body like she usually did.

"You look _stunning_," praised Rangiku, smiling. "Hisagi is going to eat his heart out."

Orihime glanced at the mirror, feeling far from it. Her attempt to smile felt too forced, nothing compared to the real thing. The girl who looked back at her was obviously nice-looking but her eyes were _dull_. They held swirling fog, concealing emotions she refused to share. "What's he like?"

Rangiku sighed deeply. "Well, he's not that much older than you and is very successful. His family's marketing company is the second largest in China."

_That_ was why Iwao wanted her to meet him.

Orihime closed her eyes, numbing all her pent feelings on the verge of bursting. It was too much; she felt things so deeply, so intimately that it was becoming a nuisance. The strain on her heart was growing, tearing at the seams and she worried it would unravel completely sooner than later.

**:**

Ichigo readjusted the rearview, his gaze stuck on Orihime who was sitting alone in the backseat, her face vacant. It was like before, only much stronger and worrisome. Wherever Orihime was it was not _there_, she had obviously fled from reality and left behind only a hollowed shell.

"Orihime."

She hardly batted a lash, staring into the distance but not looking at anything in particular. Ichigo had to admit, Orihime truly looked lovely. It was already hard enough to resist her when she wasn't trying to seize attention but now that she was, it was impossible not to.

Ichigo tried again. _"Orihime."_

Orihime broke from her trance and turned to him. Her eyes were like diamonds—hard and unattainable. "Yes, Kurosaki-san?"

He scowled, not liking how empty her voice sounded. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said, detached. "I'm fine."

Eyes tightening, Ichigo resumed driving, heading into the busier and more elegant side of Beijing. The car in front was Rangiku's and when they arrived to the private estate, they pulled up along with the other rows of cars at the entrance.

Ichigo escorted both women inside the intimidating mansion where numerous figures socialized. Everyone was dressed impeccably and greeted the pair warmly. In return, Orihime smiled politely and bowed to each person she interacted with.

Keeping close, Ichigo surveyed the premises. There were other bodyguards and security scattered around. Each one of them was blending within the crowds, keeping a handle on things.

"There's your father," muttered Rangiku to Orihime.

Hesitantly, Orihime joined her father and his companions. Present was Gin, who grinned impudently at Rangiku. The other was Iwao's personal lawyer, a smooth looking brown-haired man who smiled courteously at Orihime.

"It's nice to see you, Orihime," he said. "You look as dazzling as ever."

"Thank you, Sousuke."

Iwao studied Orihime like a precious artifact, taking in her appearance. "I agree. You look good."

Orihime bowed. "I'm glad you approve."

Iwao grabbed a drink offered by a passing waiter. "Let's see what Hisagi thinks. He's sitting right over there."

**:**

"You look tense, Hisagi," noted Kira, grinning crookedly. "Are you nervous about the Inoue girl?"

Hisagi shot his friend a glare. "Why on earth would I be nervous about a girl? Especially if it's Iwoa's daughter."

"Geez," grumbled Kira. "There's no need to get snippy."

Hisagi rolled his eyes, wishing he didn't have to attend such a ludicrous party. He also wasn't looking forward to meeting that Inoue girl. He'd never encountered her before but he had met with Iwoa and found him intolerable. His daughter would undeniably be a privileged, self-centered person.

"She's not what you think," said Hinamori from across the table. "Orihime is very kind and pretty."

Hisagi snorted. "I've seen many pretty faces, Momo."

Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed at Hisagi for the rude tone used towards his girlfriend. "Watch it, Shuuhei. Keep it up and I'll rearrange your face."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Ahem."

All four of them faced the newcomer, Rangiku. To her left was another woman, one that looked pristine in a fashionable black dress. "Hello Hisagi," greeted Rangiku. "I'd like you to meet my niece, Orihime."

Hisagi's eyes widened as Rangiku's niece stepped forward. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hisagi."

Straightening himself up, Hisagi offered Orihime a handshake. "Likewise."

Taking his hand, Orihime met his gaze. Hisagi appeared to be in his early twenties with a thin build and dark hair that reminded her of Ichigo. Despite the scars and tattoos adorning Hisagi's face, he looked rather handsome. At first glance, he seemed dangerous.

But Orihime was not easily frightened. Making an effort, she offered a small smile that had Hisagi readjusting his vision.

Rangiku wanted to laugh at Hisagi's dumbfounded reaction. "I'll just leave you two."

"Stop gawking, Shuuhei," snickered Hitsugaya. "You'll scare her."

Hisagi was aware he was staring too openly but he couldn't find the strength to tear his attention away from Orihime. Nothing could have prepared him for such an exquisite woman. There were no traces of Iwoa in her appearance; she seemed to be made up of enticing curves and soft skin.

He smirked wickedly. "Care for a dance?"

**:**

Arms crossed, Ichigo leaned against the wall. His eyes were glued to Orihime, watching her share a dance with Hisagi. Oddly enough, she was an excellent dancer; somehow Ichigo had expected her to be clumsy as usual.

His frown was becoming permanent and it deepened when he caught Hisagi's hand sinking to Orihime's lower back.

A fist landed on Ichigo's head. "Ara~ How goes it, Ichigo?"

Ichigo pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Urahara's face. "Fuck off, Kisuke."

"Someone's crankier than usual," mocked Urahara, pushing down the barrel of the gun. "Put that away, you're causing a scene."

Ichigo returned his gun into his jacket. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Working," said Urahara, correcting his crooked tie and dusting off his sleeves. "Same as you."

Ichigo grunted, glowering at Orihime's direction. The only thing keeping Ichigo cool was the fact that she wasn't blushing or smiling brightly. As long as Hisagi didn't see _that_ private side of her then he'd survive.

"You sure are possessive," commented Urahara, following Ichigo's gaze. "But I guess it's reasonable; Orihime is quite the looker."

"Will you shut _up_?" barked Ichigo. "I'm just doing my damn job."

Chortling, Urahara couldn't help noticing the way Ichigo looked at Orihime, it was intense, his amber eyes burning in way he hadn't seen in the longest time. It was nice seeing Ichigo in a different state, his instinct protective rather than violent and destructive.

"You know, I'm actually really surprised you decided to stay," said Urahara. "I figured you'd leave in less than a week."

Ichigo stuffed his hands into his pockets. "So did I."

"So what changed your mind?"

Ichigo paused, his answer clear. _"Her. . ."_

**:**

Hisagi guided Orihime away from the dance floor and offered her a sparkling glass of champagne. "Thirsty?"

Orihime shook her head, the trail of fire down her back swaying. "No, thank you."

"Are you sure?" persisted Hisagi. "It'll loosen you up."

Her lips warily rubbed together. It wasn't like she'd never drank before, being that she attended numerous parties and gatherings it was sort of required. Orihime gave in and took the glass, hoping it would haze her mind.

Voice husky, Hisagi said, "You really are beautiful."

Orihime's eyes flickered upward, an unintentional tantalizing act. What startled her was how genuine he sounded; it was nothing like the way other men compliment in hopes to touch her.

Hisagi leaned forward, his minty breath swirling in her space. "I know you must get that a lot but its true."

Orihime blinked, overwhelmed by his nearness. It caused her heart to skip a beat, betraying her wishes. To hide the creeping self conciseness, she quickly used her lashes to hood over her eyes. "A-Ah, thank you, Hisagi."

Hisagi chuckled, completely interested in Orihime. Unlike the various women he'd encountered, Orihime was not brash or desperate for his attention. Her demeanor was quiet but drastically compelling without trying. "You don't say much, do you?"

Orihime swirled the contents of her drink, determinedly avoiding Hisagi's eye. "My father says I talk too much," she explained. "He thinks it's unattractive in a woman."

"I don't think that at all," said Hisagi, stepping closer. "In fact, it's nice to speak to someone thoughtful."

"Really?" breathed Orihime, the blood climbing up her creamy neck.

Hisagi nodded, ducking his head to level the height distance between the two. Even so, Orihime still had to crane her neck to face him properly. "I'd like to learn more about you, Orihime."

Inwardly, Orihime shied away. The front she had put was slowly falling apart with each sentence Hisagi said. The man was diligently working his way in and she felt powerless to stop him. Her plans were thwarted as she felt the numbness in her body fading.

Fiddling with the ends of her hair, she asked, "What would you like to know?"

Hisagi grinned crookedly. "Everything."

Without her permission, the ends of Orihime's mouth twitched upward. She wanted Hisagi to stop, to leave her alone but a scary part of her wanted him to continue. Confused, she took a hearty sip from her drink.

"You can start by telling me what you like," offered Hisagi. "Or what you dislike."

Orihime peered at Hisagi, sensing his earnestness. Struggling to decide whether or not to reveal her personal life, she chose to disclose minor information. "I love playing the piano."

Hisagi raised an inquisitive brow. "You play?"

"Yes," she said, her expression turning _soft_. Whatever stiffness she had before melted, exposing a different part of her. "I learned how when I was six and I've never stopped since."

Lured by Orihime's sudden openness, Hisagi had to take a moment to assemble his thoughts. "Do you compose songs?"

"A little," she admitted, finishing the remainder of her champagne. "Although, I doubt they're any good."

"You never know," said Hisagi, gazing at Orihime in a way that made her squirm and toes curl. "Regardless, I'd still like to hear you play."

Orihime chewed on her full lower lip, trying to ward off the tingling sensation Hisagi's dark grey eyes left on her. Then she caught Ichigo looking at in her from a few yards away. The crease between his brows was evident and it scrunched up even more when she blushed.

"You're biting your lip, Orihime," pointed out Hisagi.

She started, the blush intensifying. "S-Sorry."

"Don't apologize," said Hisagi, smirking devilishly. "It's just that I want to bite it too, hard."

Hisagi received the pleasure of flustering Orihime. Her eyes widen, filling her face and her mouth parted in definite surprise. The urge to take her lips was unbearable but Hisagi held onto what little self control he had left.

"Excuse me."

Both of them turned to see Kira standing there awkwardly. He was reeling from the cold glare Hisagi was sending. "Uh, I don't mean to interrupt but your office just called, Hisagi. They require your assistance."

Hisagi sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Guess it can't be helped. Those idiots have no idea how to run things." He faced Orihime and smiled ruefully. "Seems like our time is up."

Orihime tilted her head to the side and clasping her hands together, she returned his smile with her own timid one. "It's okay."

"It really is such a shame," said Hisagi, his eyes roaming over Orihime appreciatively once more. "I wanted to hear more."

Orihime flinched as Hisagi reached over and took a few strands of her hair, rubbing the tips against his fingers. Unabashed, he leaned in and grazed his lips over her reddening cheek. "We'll chat another day."

Swiftly, Hisagi pulled back and cast one last look her way before leaving with Kira. Getting over the shock, Orihime placed a palm on her cheek, the touch still warm.

**:**

The people she met and the conversations she engaged in blurred past Orihime, who did not care in the slightest. Iwao had taken the liberty of guiding her throughout the party, showcasing her assets and trying to establish good relationships with other company owners.

So Orihime did what she was told and presented herself civilly, despite the suggestive remarks most of the men made. At this hour, they were growing a bit daring and acted too familiarly.

Inside, Orihime felt _used_. To her father, she was nothing more than bait, an attractive face to tempt suitors and business.

Shuffled to person to person, Orihime tried her best to keep herself together. She'd done this many times before but it was a draining task. Without realizing it, she had finished another intoxicating beverage and then followed up with one more.

Iwao patted Orihime's shoulder, unsteady on his own feet. "I have some things to discuss with Aizen. I won't be going home until tomorrow."

"O-Okay," stammered Orihime. She could already see her father's partners gathering around to head off and smoke cigars in a private room. Aizen, smiled at her from afar, making Orihime uneasy.

"You did well," said Iwao. "Hisagi has requested to speak to you again."

Orihime perked up at this. "Did he?"

Iwao nodded. "I'll be going then."

Once Iwao sauntered off, Orihime let out a sigh of relief. Being with him made Orihime uncomfortable; she was constantly worrying over every little thing she did, afraid she'd upset him.

Dizzy, she searched for Rangiku but could not find her. Feeling strange and sleepy, Orihime glided away from the main floor. Quietly, she fled upstairs and leaned on the banister for support. Her knees pressed against each other and her grip on the railing tightened. For second, she seemed to be seeing double.

_Disgusting_. Orihime was disgusted with herself. All over she felt dirty, like all the eyes that had crawled over her had left her tainted. She hated how helpless she was, unable to stand up to her father or push away the various men.

Tears began to pool at the edge of her eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

Gasping, Orihime stumbled backwards and nearly fell over the ledge but was saved by a hand that grabbed her forearm and steadied her. "Ah. . . Kurosaki- san. . ."

Ichigo pulled her from the banister; he knew she was clumsy but it troubled him how she was wobbling side to side. "Be careful."

"A-Ano, Kurosaki-san," stuttered Orihime, hastily wiping her face. Her heart immediately went into a frenzy at the sight of him. "You startled me."

Ichigo took in her distressed form. "You didn't answer my question, Orihime."

She took a shaky breath, looking down at the party. "I just needed a break from all this."

Ichigo's stare was full of concern. Although Orihime was not physically hurt, he could see right through her façade. She was a mess but such a beautiful mess. "Did something happen?"

The words that Orihime wished to say halted in her throat. She swallowed and tried again, only to have the sentence evaporate on the tip of her tongue. Frustration got the best of Orihime and the tears returned with a vengeance.

"Orihime—"

"I hate it," she finally blurted out. "I _hate_ doing this."

Ichigo's gut clenched as he watched her become distraught. It killed him to see someone as lovely as her so sad; she didn't deserve to be. "This?"

She covered her face with her hands to hide the crushing shame. "These parties, these people. Everything. . . my. . . myself. . ." Regardless of her attempts to hold in her sobs they escaped and Orihime's delicate shoulders began to shake. "I don't like myself the most. I feel like O-Okaa-san—like a p-prostitute—getting ushered from man to man and—"

Then Orihime's voice broke and she pushed the heels of hands into her eyes.

"Don't," interrupted Ichigo. He was unable to stand it anymore, so he clutched her by the wrist and yanked her to his chest. "Don't say that."

Orihime went rigid but then she buried herself into his shirt, inhaling deeply and reveling in Ichigo's scent. His arms wrapped around her, trying to keep her from falling apart. It was then that Orihime gave in, her emotions rushing forward. So she cried away her sorrows.

Ichigo soothingly ran his fingers through her long mane of hair. "You're tired, aren't you?"

She nodded slowly, her tiny hands moving up to grip the front of his jacket. "C-Can you take me home?"

Ichigo felt Orihime hold her breath as he cupped her face and wiped her trail of tears with his thumb. "Yeah."

Neither made any attempt to pull back from the other. Ichigo wanted to keep holding Orihime, he liked how soft she felt on his hard body. But he didn't want Orihime to stay at the party any longer.

So Ichigo left an arm on her waist and guided her out of the mansion.

**:**

Ichigo pulled out of the driveway and crashed his foot on the gas pedal. Beside him, Orihime sank in her seat. A rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her eyes had turned to melted silver. Her head tilted to the side as sleep slithered its way into her mind, jumbling and meshing her thoughts.

"Orihime."

She blinked a couple of times and then craned her neck towards Ichigo. "Hmm?"

"You said something earlier," began Ichigo, casting her a glance. "Something regarding your mother. . . You said she was a prostitute?"

Orihime lips twisted downward. "It's true," she admitted grimly. "She was working as a hostess in Japan when she met Otou-san. She was very young and was struggling to take care of Onii-chan so she accepted his proposal."

"But I thought—?"

"Onii-chan was my half brother," clarified Orihime, turning sad. "He and Otou-san never got along. But he always took care of me even though—even though Okaa-san didn't want me. . ."

A silence settled between the two but it was not heavy. Together in the darkness of the lonely night it was comforting. Orihime looked to Ichigo, wanting to ask her own question that she was sure to have a serious answer.

But she had to ask.

"Kurosaki-san," said Orihime softly. "What happened to your hand?"

"They're birth defects."

Orihime pressed her lips together, mustering up her courage. "You're lying."

Ichigo looked at her, deciding. He didn't want to tell Orihime the truth but it was the least he could do considering that she answered his question. Sighing, Ichigo said, "A man asked me a lot of questions once. He smoked a lot. There was no ashtray."

Orihime's eyes filled her face as she dissected what Ichigo said. "You mean, they t-tortured you?"

Ichigo ducked his head, spiky hair falling over his face. "Yes."

"Oh, my God, Kurosaki-san," breathed Orihime. "That's terrible."

Ichigo continued watching the road; that was all he was going to share. He didn't want her pity and he didn't want to remember being a prisoner of war.

Transfixed, Orihime extended her arm and touched the back of Ichigo's hand that rested on the gear shift.

He didn't push her away.

**:**

By the time they reached the Inoue household, Orihime had dozed off and fell into a deep sleep. Unable to find it in himself to wake her, Ichigo carried her inside the vacant house. He took her upstairs into her room and placed her on her plush bed.

It was a bit disturbing how she sleep, it was like she was _dead_.

Ichigo went on to take off her heels but refused to go any further than that. He turned to go but stopped. He looked back Ichigo at Orihime and listened to her even breathing. And then it overtook him, that primal urge to stroke her pristine face.

It had been a long day. And enduring the party had been complete and utter torment. It was tough to see Orihime in such a ravishing state but to watch men gape at her was unbearable. It became especially difficult when Hisagi had kissed Orihime.

He pushed back Orihime's bangs and swept his lips on both her cheekbones before firmly pressing them on her forehead. "Goodnight."

It wasn't until Ichigo had shut the door behind him that Orihime murmured, "Goodnight, Kurosaki-san . . ."


	5. his only strength and weakness

**notes: **Sorry for the delay, I take a while because I'm a pen and paper girl so revising takes some time. So, umm, I guess you can say this chapter got away from me. Hehehe… But oh well, IchiHime is simply too cute. (I've encountered so much shipping wars on the IchiHime tag on Tumblr. Seriously guys, can't we all just get alone? Ugh, I digress. I'll just have to retaliate with this update.)

Special thanks to: SkinnyMoose, sunflowerspot, nypsy, Child of the Ashes, Jaylonni Love, hapezibah, Bridge2thePast.

Well, until Kubo stops being such a troll and makes IchiHime cannon, you can all enjoy this.

**rating: **T+

**disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_his only strength and weakness_

**:**

Morning light trickled through Orihime's translucent curtains. Her slumber was disrupted as it focused on her tranquil face. Dreamy eyes languidly fluttered open and took in the day. Momentarily confused, they absently stared up at the white ceiling.

Leaving her out of breath, a recollection of memories from the night overwhelmed Orihime. At first, they were blurry, jagged fragments of a whole but slowly they reassembled and created a string of images that started out as unpleasant and ended preciously.

Orihime's head began throbbing painfully and she immediately regretted indulging in the champagne. Groaning, she massaged her temples. "O-Owie . . ."

She rolled out of bed and headed into her bathroom, grabbing a pair of pain killers from her cabinet. After filling herself a glass of tap water, Orihime took the medication. She then stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water was the perfect remedy to relax her tense muscles.

Replaying over and over in Orihime's mind were lips pressed onto her forehead, lips that she craved to taste with her own. They were lips that belonged to someone considered unkind but strangely enough they were warm and tender.

Her face warmed and her heart inflated in her chest at the thought. It drummed a quirky little beat, a kind that skipped and danced just for him. As unfamiliar and anxious the sensation was, Orihime did not hide.

She was a strange girl in love.

**:**

Done with his meal, Ichigo used a napkin to wipe his mouth. "The food was excellent, Tessai."

The large man beamed proudly. "Thanks." He removed his tattered apron and folded it neatly. "Could you let Orihime know her meal is in the oven? She hasn't come down yet and I have to go to the market."

"Sure."

Tessai nodded and headed out, leaving Ichigo alone in the kitchen. He went ahead and washed his plate, making sure to clean up. Overhead, there was an echo of pattering footsteps on the wooden floor. They were light and filled with plenty of unfiltered energy.

Listening to Orihime move about upstairs was a nice reminder that she was safe and sound. Watching her was a handful but it was worth it as long as Ichigo got to see her smile at him.

Seconds later, Orihime scurried down, fully dressed in her school uniform and bag slung over her shoulder. Entering the kitchen, she found Ichigo at the sink with his back facing her. His shoulders were broad from carrying so many burdens and Orihime wished someday to be as strong.

Gulping a mouthful of air, Orihime stepped forward. Her buzzing nerves knocked her knees together but she refused to falter.

Ichigo could feel her; Orihime's presence was lukewarm sunshine and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. He counted each one of her steps as she grew nearer and nearer until she was directly behind him.

The only sound was the faucet.

And just like the running water, Ichigo felt flowing emotions as willowy arms encircled themselves around his torso and sticky breath caressed his back, seeping though his shirt and crushing his rough skin. Amber eyes widened as every part of his body went rigid. Orihime didn't seem to realize the effect she had on him, how she made him feel _alive_.

"T-Thank you, Kurosaki-san," murmured Orihime. She didn't completely understand what she doing but she couldn't stop, she couldn't let go when she desperately wanted to stay close to Ichigo. "Thank you for listening to me and—and bringing me home. It meant a lot to me. . . ."

The way Orihime's voice trailed off reminded Ichigo of a sweet lullaby. He took a moment and then looked over to be met with her large eyes. They were much too caring and captivating. It was tough wanting something he could not have. "You're welcome."

Orihime smiled up at Ichigo and it kick-started his pulse rate. Her arms dropped and she stepped away, clasping them behind her own back. That familiar rosy blush adorned her cheekbones.

"Your breakfast is in the oven," said Ichigo, reaching over to turn off the sink's tap. "You should eat it before it gets cold."

"R-Right. . . ."

Silently, Ichigo watched as Orihime placed a bowl of steamed rice, a slice of grilled salmon, a raw egg and a muffin on the kitchen table. It was rather funny how such a small person could consume so much food. She seemed unsure where to start and then settled on the egg, taking a happy bite from it.

Part of Ichigo wondered if Orihime remembered everything about last night, more precisely: the goodnight kiss. He had been certain she had been fast asleep and slightly intoxicated but still, a small part of him actually wanted her remember. Of course, that couldn't be possible and that was exactly why he allowed himself the luxury in the first place.

Orihime quickly finished everything on her plate, a satisfied smile plastered on her face. Her mood was much better than yesterday and life was bubbling in her eyes once again. There were no signs of uneasiness or apprehension in her, she looked content.

No, Ichigo decided, she most definitely did not remember. And perhaps it was for the best, he was better off alone anyways.

**:**

Beside Ichigo, Orihime unconsciously hummed a tuneful ballad that fell pleasantly onto his ears. The air surrounding the two was at ease and it allowed Ichigo to lean back in his seat comfortably. Every so often, he'd permit a sideward glance Orihime's way, enjoying her jovial behavior.

He was becoming addicted to her presence.

Ichigo pulled up to Orihime's school entrance. He put the car into park and turned to her. "I spoke with your father this morning. He'll be away on business for a week."

As she looked out the window, Orihime said, "He can stay for two weeks. I don't care."

Subtly, Ichigo observed how Orihime's mouth tightened, a spark of toughness growing behind her eyes. She was such a kind and accepting person that he was perplexed of how hostile she seemed to be about Iwoa. The man must have done something unforgivable to induce such a reaction.

Orihime smoothed out a wrinkle on her skirt. "I—I know that sounds cruel and I feel bad for thinking that way but I can't forgive him for all he's done. . ." She looked to Ichigo. "Does that make me a horrible person?"

"No," said Ichigo gruffly. "You can feel however you want."

This appeared to have touched Orihime but her smile was sad and so very bittersweet. "But God would want me to forgive—"

"Who gives a shit about God?" snapped Ichigo, his blood running hot. "If he cared, he wouldn't have you living this way; he wouldn't make you suffer."

Ichigo waited for Orihime to voice her disapproval regarding his lack of faith. He expected some sort of repercussion but it never came. Instead, she paused and then said in that soft-spoken voice of hers, "I used to think that way, too."

Ichigo raised a brow, surprised. "What changed?"

Orihime unbuckled her seatbelt and then folded her hands neatly on her lap. Her smile and face became overwhelmingly kind as she said, "He answered my prayer and gave me you."

Ichigo's shock doubled as Orihime leaned forward and kissed his cheek, filling his entire body with gentle warmth. But before anything else could be done, she fled from the car, leaving Ichigo to stare after her retreating figure. He ran a hand through his hair. "Damn. . . ."

**:**

Orihime could hear her professor's history lecture on China's involvement during World War II but it failed to register at all. She made an effort to pay attention but as usual, her mind wandered and she ran away into daydreams. Only they strayed from the typical musings of robots and strange little blue men to a grumpy face toppled with bright orange hair she adored.

Some of her fellow classmates looked to Orihime, each believing that the Japanese girl was peculiar. A smile wider than the ocean grew on her lips and then her eyes turned glossy. She grabbed her pencil and it began moving it across her notebook. In a matter of seconds, a goofy doodle of Ichigo was created. Orihime remained true to his characteristics; she used a 'v' to inscribe his knitted brows and a squiggly line for his mouth. She giggled to herself when she finished her masterpiece.

"Care to share what's so amusing, Inoue?"

Orihime jolted and glanced up at the front of the classroom where her professor was giving her a reproachful look. "U-Uh, nothing—I remembered something funny—it won't happen again—"

The other students laughed and Orihime turned red.

"I hope so," said the professor before resuming the reading.

Orihime ducked her head in embarrassment, wishing to disappear. With Tatsuki out sick, there was no one today to turn to and get reassurance. There was nobody who'd smile in support and say not to sweat it. Sighing, Orihime slid the drawing into her folder's pocket.

The bell rang, dismissing the class and Orihime gladly fled for lunch. Alone for the day, she avoided the cafeteria and found a secluded area outside near the quad. Under the shade of a generous tree, Orihime settled down and unpacked her _bento_.

Taking a bite of her _dango_, she looked up at the chirping birds that were perched on the branches above. They observed her inquiringly, not accustomed to her presence. Sensing their curiosity and reservations, Orihime broke off a piece of her dumpling and tossed it in their direction. After a moment or two, one bird fluttered to the patch of grass and nipped at it gratefully.

A musical laugh escaped Orihime as more birds followed and fought over the scrap. "Okay, okay," she said, tossing over more crumbs. "Don't fight." Orihime eyed the bird's wings with envy. They were soft looking and she wished to pet them but she denied the action, she'd most definitely turn them into flightless birds if they got too close.

"You really do behave like a princess."

Orihime whipped her head around, her swathe of hair dancing gracefully behind. Not too far from her was a classmate, a boy named Huang-fu. He was highly admired by the girls for his good looks and charming personality. Huang-fu grinned at Orihime and she automatically averted her gaze. "H-How long have you been there?"

He chuckled. "Long enough."

Awkwardly, Orihime pressed her fingers together and cocked her head to side. "Er—Did you need something, Huang-fu?"

Huang-fu strolled over and sat beside Orihime. "I was just walking by and noticed you were all by yourself."

Uncomfortable with Huang-fu being so close, Orihime scooted away as discreetly as she could. "I usually eat lunch with Tatsuki-chan but she's not here today."

Huang-fu propped his elbow on his bent knee and rested his temple against his hand. His eyes regarded Orihime ominously. "You shouldn't be here alone."

"It's alright," chirped Orihime with a smile. "I'm used to it."

Huang-fu paused for a second and then said, "Come on."

Orihime squealed when he took hold of her forearm and lifted her up to her feet. "W-What are you doing, Huang-fu?"

"Taking you to eat lunch with my friends."

"You don't have to do that!" protested Orihime. "It's okay!"

Ignoring Orihime, Huang-fu gathered her things and handed over her bag. "Don't worry, Inoue. My friends don't bite."

Orihime shifted the weight from one foot to the other, completely unsure of what to do. It wasn't like she was didn't want to meet Huang-fu's friends but she was certain they wouldn't warm up to her. For some reason, she wasn't any good with her fellow classmates; nearly all of them had made it very clear that she was not wanted. But on the other hand, Orihime didn't want to be rude to Huang-fu.

Hopeful, Orihime gave in and followed Huang-fu back towards the cafeteria. They strolled through the open and deserted hallways, Huang-fu providing mindless chatter but Orihime was fine with it.

"So what was that you were doing in class earlier?" he asked with a snarky grin.

Orihime laughed self-consciously, fighting a fresh dose of blood rushing to her face. Scratching the back of her head, she said, "Umm, well, I was doodling."

Getting a rise from that, Huang-fu chortled in amusement. "Don't feel bad. Just try not to get caught next time."

"That's good advice."

Huang-fu looked to Orihime, blatantly staring. "Is that really your natural hair color, Inoue?"

"E-Eh?" She blinked and then recovered. It was no surprise to hear that question; it was a rather common thing people asked about. Many were unable to believe she her hair was natural and it became bothersome after a while, especially since Sora had constantly expressed his fondness for it. "Uh, yeah, it is—"

Then it happened. Orihime hadn't realized Huang-fu invading her personal space or the way his eyes had turned dark. Completely caught off guard, Orihime felt a hand slither up her skirt and skim the curve of her backside.

Her entire body froze and her voice got lost on the way to her mouth. Too shocked to do anything, Huang-fu's hand continued to glide over her bottom. The voice within Orihime screamed at the top its lungs, demanding action. It refused to be used and treated so awfully by another man. _Not again._ She still had self-respect so she searched and found strength.

"_Let me go, you creep!"_

There was a scuffle and an echoing _crunch_.

Huang-fu staggered backwards, clutching his nose that sputtered out blood. He could not believe what had just happened. "You—You broke my nose, you bitch!"

**:**

The receptionists attending to the school's office all grew wary as the entrance door slammed open and a tall man with orange hair stormed inside, looking livid. Brown eyes scorching, he advanced forward to one of ladies sitting behind the front counter. His voice was strained as though it was taking great effort stay at an acceptable volume instead of yelling. "I just got off the phone with the Headmistress," explained Ichigo. "I'm here for Orihime Inoue."

"O-Oh, of course, sir," said the clerk. "Follow me."

Ichigo's hands were curled tightly in fists. It was taking an immense amount of control to remain levelheaded. All he wanted to do was find the bastard and rip him to shreds. Despite the anger Ichigo felt, his mind was more preoccupied with Orihime and her well being.

They turned the corner and Ichigo saw Orihime speaking to Ochi-sensei in her private office. The muscles in his jaw locked when he spotted tears rolling down her face and he vowed to he'd break the guy's bones for each one he counted.

Without a second thought, he brushed past the clerk who called after him and entered the room. _"Orihime."_

There was no hesitation on Orihime's part. The second Ichigo appeared an instinct overcame her and she took refuge in his arms. A large hand buried itself into her hair while the other firmly held her torso. "Are you alright?" he asked gruffly.

Orihime sucked in a shaky breath. "Y-Yes. . . ."

Ichigo looked to Ochi-sensei who was sitting behind her desk with a frown. "What's going to be done about this?"

Ochi-sensei sighed deeply. "I'm afraid at this point there is nothing."

"The hell are you saying?" growled Ichigo.

Readjusting her glasses, Ochi-sensei said, "It pains me to say this but Huang-fu denies laying a hand on Orihime. And since there's no actual proof to back up Orihime's allegations there's nothing I can do—"

"That's _bullshit!"_ roared Ichigo. "You got to be fucking kidding me—!"

The only thing that prevented Ichigo from going off was Orihime tugging the front of his shirt. He stopped in mid-sentence and glanced down at her to find wide pleading eyes gazing up at him. "Please, Kurosaki-san," whispered Orihime. "Ochi-sensei has treated me kindly."

Ichigo could not find it in himself to continue yelling with Orihime begging. "Orihime," he grounded out. "You can't let him get away with this."

She shook her head. "It's fine. Really."

"It's fucking not."

Rising from her seat, Ochi-sensei said, "I truly am sorry, Kurosaki-san. I wish I could do more." She faltered for a moment, obviously struggling to say something. "Also, Orihime cannot attend school tomorrow. Her act of violence resulted in a suspension."

Ichigo's temper flared like fire. "She did it out of self-defense!"

It took all of Orihime's to push him back to prevent another outburst. "It's okay, Kurosaki-san. I shouldn't have hit Huang-fu."

"That bastard deserved it," snarled Ichigo.

"I regret this decision, Kurosaki-san. I truly do," said Ochi-sensei. "But because we can't prove Huang-fu groped Orihime, the act has to be viewed as assault rather than self-defense."

Ichigo shook his head, cursing under his breath. "Unbelievable."

Reluctantly, Orihime broke from Ichigo's grasp and offered Ochi-sensei a consoling smile. "Please excuse, Kurosaki-san. I understand the circumstances of your decision."

Ochi-sensei's expression tightened. She genuinely liked Orihime but the situation was awful and she could do nothing for the girl. "Do not worry, Orihime. Your bodyguard's reaction is reasonable."

Ichigo snorted. "Hurry up and grab your things Orihime. We're leaving."

Orihime sent Ochi-sensei one more apologetic glance before listening to Ichigo and following him out into the hallway. His anger had yet to have subsided and she could feel it radiating off his entire body. However, this did not wane Orihime so she silently stayed at his side.

They were hallway to the front office when something caught Ichigo's attention. A boy not much older than Orihime was sitting in one of the chairs lined up along the walls holding a bag of ice to his nose.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. In a few strides, he was right in front of Huang-fu and wasted no time hauling him up by the front of his shirt. Ichigo heard Orihime gasp as he slammed Huang-fu against the wall. Inches from Huang-fu's face, Ichigo hissed, "You piece of shit."

Orihime rushed over and latched onto Ichigo, trying to pull him off of Hunag-fu. "Kurosaki-san, _stop!"_

Ichigo felt satisfaction seeing Huang-fu's eyes widen in horror. It would be so very easy to snap his neck or break his arm. That too familiar side of Ichigo was spreading, urging him on, wanting to draw blood. "Why don't you trying touching me, motherfucker? Come on, I fucking dare you."

Huang-fu tried kicking but it was futile. An elbow quickly jabbed his gut, knocking the air out of him. Huang-fu body went limp, unable to move or fight back as Ichigo dug his elbow deeper.

Orihime pulled harder on Ichigo. This was not in his character, Ichigo was strong not cruel. He'd never recklessly engage in a fight, he was her protector. "Don't, Kurosaki-san! Stop!"

"Don't give up so easily," jeered Ichigo, shaking Huang-fu roughly. "I haven't even started yet—"

"_Ichigo, please!"_

The desperation in Orihime's voice snapped Ichigo out of his rampage and reined him back in. He stopped and released Huang-fu who slumped to the ground. Realizing what he had just done, Ichigo went rigid, not able to meet her tearful gaze. Once again, he'd lost control around her. "I—Orihime, he—" Ichigo swallowed painfully. "Damn it, I got out of hand and—Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that."

Relief swarmed Orihime once she saw the hardness leave Ichigo's eyes. Worried eased, she gave him a smile that was too vibrant and too forgiving for the moment. "It's okay. You didn't scare me; I was just scared for you."

Ichigo felt guilt hit him back five times harder. _This_ girl, this auburn haired, positive thinking, generous to a fault girl was his only strength and weakness. She was the most dangerous person he'd ever encountered; she could change him for the better and the worse.

Huang-fu let out groan and the sound of footsteps reached them. Swiftly, Ichigo grabbed Orihime's hand and guided her out before she could protest. "Come on."

She did not question him.

**:**

In fascination, Orihime watched as Ichigo raised the cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag. The pair of them were sitting in the car, parked outside the café where he treated her to doughnuts. Although the windows were rolled all the way down, the heavy smoke clung to the chilly air.

Of course, Ichigo had asked Orihime if she minded and she had said no.

Ichigo leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. The cigarette hung from his mouth, dangerously drooping and he didn't seem to care. Ichigo was not a fan of smoking but somehow they managed to calm his nerves and he definitely needed that.

Orihime stared at Ichigo, her thoughts disarrayed. His disheveled hair, thick eyelashes and sharp jaw entranced her. Her fingers twitched, wanting the chance to outline each feature and save the memory.

Ichigo pulled back the cigarette and blew out another dose of smoke, his eyes crescents. "Orihime?"

"Y-Yeah?"

A charismatic grin broke across Ichigo's face and it left Orihime breathless. For the very first time, she'd seen him do something other than scowl. It wasn't quite a smile but it was more than enough for Orihime.

"Good job."

Perplexed, she blinked twice. "For what?"

"For punching that asshole," explained Ichigo. "You must've put some force behind it because you shattered his nose."

Orihime blushed. "A-Ah, I didn't mean to—"

"Still, I'm glad," said Ichigo, rolling the cigarette that rested between his middle and forefinger thoughtfully. "This way I know you can decently handle yourself when I'm not around."

"As pathetic as this sounds," confessed Orihime, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I actually feel bad for hitting Huang-fu."

"You're not pathetic Orihime," said Ichigo. "You're compassionate. You're strong enough to feel sympathy towards your enemies."

This perked up Orihime. It helped since it was coming from someone as strong as Ichigo. "You think so?"

He nodded and took another drag.

Curiosity got the best of Orihime, she sat up tall and directly met Ichigo's gaze. "Can I try that?"

Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise. Raising a brow, he wiggled the cigarette. "This?"

Biting her lip, Orihime nodded fervently. "Yes."

Ichigo stared at her blankly, still trying to see if Orihime was serious but she seemed to be with her expression eager and excited. "It'll cause cancer."

"So will breathing."

Chuckling darkly, Ichigo straightened up. "Fine. You can try mine, okay? I doubt you're going to want more. Plus, the prices for these things are ridiculous." He shook his head in frustration. Catching Orihime looking at the cigarette apprehensively, he frowned. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Will I die?" squeaked Orihime, unable to contain it. Instantly, she squeezed her eyes shut and inwardly winced at her stupidity.

Ichigo tossed his head back and laughed carelessly. The sound was deep and made Orihime's stomach coil, she wanted to hear it over and over again. "Man, Orihime, you kill me sometimes!"

After chuckling a few more times, Ichigo handed over the cigarette. Taking it, Orihime grinned sheepishly. "Er, I don't know how."

The edge of Ichigo's mouth jerked upward. "Alright, first you inhale slowly and get a bit of smoke in your mouth and then fully inhale with your lungs by breathing through your nose."

Orihime absorbed the instructions keenly, trying her best to remember. Determination was set in her face, declaring, "Okay, I'm ready."

"I suggest you only inhale a take a little," advised Ichigo as she brought the cigarette to her lips. "I don't want you to choke. . . . or die."

Listening to Ichigo, Orihime inhaled slightly only to taste something repulsive. It was as if she had licked an unclean barbecue grill. Then the cigarette vanished from her mouth and it was back with Ichigo like nothing had happened. "I did it." announced Orihime triumphantly.

"You did." Ichigo tossed the butt of the cigarette out and then suddenly leaned toward Orihime. His eyes had melted and turned intense at the sight of her. "But promise me you won't try this again. You're too beautiful for it."

"Beautiful?" she breathed.

Ichigo hated it. Without any real effort, Orihime had him in the palm of her hand. He had unknowingly given himself and all the power to her. Time and time again, Ichigo had denied himself and he had reached his limit. Closing the distance, he muttered, "So completely beautiful."

Then Ichigo kissed Orihime in a way he wanted to for a while. He tried to be gentle, he honestly did but the second their lips met the plan vanished. Tasting her was sinfully good; nibbling on her lower lip he got a lick of vanilla.

With her eyes closed and heart opened wide, Orihime eagerly returned Ichigo's kiss. She allowed him to taste her smile and swallow her love. Ichigo guided her, grabbing her chin and slanting his mouth over hers to devour her whole. She wanted to feel more; she wanted to feel the heat from Ichigo's skin.

Ichigo slipped his tongue past Orihime's lips, enticing a whimper from her part. Small hands clutched the hairs at the nape of his neck and he felt blunt nails scraping his scalp. His free hand roamed Orihime's side and landed on her hip, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

Panting heavily, Ichigo pulled back and gave Orihime a chance to catch her breath. Moving to her neck, his teeth graze the crème flesh, nipping and biting hungrily. Lower and lower he went and then he busied himself with that spot where her collarbone and neck met. There Ichigo could hear how fast Orihime's heart raced.

Orihime wet her lips, tasting peppermint and sweet smoke. "K-Kurosaki . . ."

Roughly, Ichigo's mouth came back down on hers and caught her breathless words. A powerful shudder ripped through Orihime and she responded earnestly to Ichigo's demanding kisses.

Somewhere in the back of Ichigo's mind, he knew he had just gotten involved something dangerous. He was playing with fire but he no longer cared. Already damned, Ichigo drowned himself with the closest thing to heaven he'd ever be.


	6. he couldn't and he wouldn't

**notes: **Yes, yes, I'm aware this is later than usual, blame my laziness and Thanksgiving (hopefully you all enjoyed it). Oh my, I was watching Titanic and I got so many IchiHime feels when I saw Jack and Rose together! They remind me so much of this dear ship. And ahh, the latest chapter was cute! Do you agree? I'm so hoping Grimmy returns!

Big thanks to those who favorite, followed and reviewed this story. Seriously guys, you have no idea how much it means to me. I'm super glad you enjoy this story because writing it is fun for me. Please continue to show your support and leave feedback.

**warning: **umm, be prepared for a touch of smut; so the rating will be changed lol

**rating: **M

**disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_he couldn't and he wouldn't_

**:**

The television in Ichigo's bedroom flashed pictures, providing the evening news. Sprawled out on his bed with his arms folded behind his head was Ichigo. Languidly he watched the program, catching every other word spoken by the anchorwoman. An exchange was made between the newscast and a violet eyed newspaper editor concerning corruption among the government.

From out the window there was an undeniable _caw!_ It occurred again and again.

Unable to ignore the sound, Ichigo stood and went to the window. Leaning out, he saw Orihime's opened window from across the lawn. There she stood on the terrace wearing her lilac nightgown and staring upward at the dark sky, watching the slow dance of infinite stars. Her full lips moved and she imitated another _caw_.

The end of Ichigo's mouth twitched at her childish behavior, Orihime was such a pure and curious soul. Deciding to play along, he _cawed_ back in return.

Puzzled, Orihime jolted and anxiously glanced around, her hair swinging at her waist like a heavy shawl. Ichigo's impression was convincing enough to fool her, for she eagerly cupped her hands around her mouth and _cawed_ once more believing she had actually heard a bird.

Wanting a better look, Ichigo gruffly called out to her. "Hey . . . Orihime . . ."

Orihime whipped around towards Ichigo, an alluring flush of color adorning her cheekbones. It deepened when her eyes met his. Smiling shyly, she murmured, "K-Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo arched a brow, his eyes hungrily moving over Orihime, raking in her appearance. She truly was a peculiar girl but he found everything about her fascinating, he had never met anyone like her. "What are you doing?"

Blush intensifying, Orihime clasped her hands together. "I'm calling for Ulquiorra's macaw, Birdy. I thought I heard him."

Ichigo swallowed, noting how transparent her attire was in the moonlight. Orihime's soft curves were put on full display, allowing him to fully appreciate her finely sculpted body. "Do you think he'll come back?"

"Maybe," said Orihime, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. "Did you hear him?"

He shook his head. "No."

Orihime scanned the scenery worriedly, hoping she'd find Birdy or some sign of him. Her full bottom lip jutted out and Ichigo's gaze darkened as he recalled how it tasted between his teeth. "How do you think he got out?"

Sighing and rubbing the back of his neck, Ichigo said, "Well, I let him go."

Her eyes brightened and her expression softened. The way she looked at Ichigo triggered an urge to hold her face between his hands. "It's better to be free, right?"

"Yes." Ichigo paused, the feeling obligated to tell Orihime the truth. "Actually, he was driving me crazy."

A bubbly laugh followed from Orihime. "Ne, you're so funny Kurosaki-san!"

Ichigo shrugged. "If you say so." A chilly wind breezed by, causing a shiver to run through Orihime's slight bones. Ichigo did not overlook this and frowned disapprovingly. "Get inside before you catch a cold."

"Don't worry," piped Orihime. "I have a very strong immune system!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes when he caught her trembling as another wind howled. "Do us both a favor and get to bed."

"H-Hai!"

Shaking his head, Ichigo slipped back inside. Orihime stared back at his retreating figure, trying her hardest to get a hold of her thundering heart. Taking a soothing breath, she looked to the brightest star in the sky and then tightly shut her eyes. _"Please, please, please,"_ she murmured, "_Please, let me keep Kurosaki-san."_

**:**

"That's a lot of food for just one person," deadpanned Ichigo as he stared at the stack of freshly made pancakes.

Five of them were perched atop each other on a large plate along with eggs sunny side up and three strips of crispy bacon. Beside the main dish were a tall glass of orange juice and a ladle of syrup. Tessai had even gone as far a making a smiley face on the top pancake out of the butter spread.

"Orihime loves pancakes," explained Tessai, washing his batter coated pan. "They're her favorite." He wiped his hands on his tattered apron. "Watch this."

Ichigo's brows furrowed.

"Orihime!" hollered Tessai from the kitchen, his deep voice vibrating throughout the house. "Hurry down! I made chocolate chip pancakes!"

The response was instantaneous. Still dressed in her nightgown, Orihime dashed out of her bedroom and ran down the stairs two at a time. Grinning widely, she scampered into the kitchen, catching a waft of the milk chocolate. "Mmm! Yay, you're the best—!"

Tessai's eyes widened. Orihime had skidded to an abrupt stop and lost her balance. "Careful, Orihime!"

Ichigo leapt from his seat at the counter but was too late. The floor had disappeared from under Orihime and she slipped, falling flat on her back. An eerie silence followed and Ichigo hurried to her side. "Are you alright—?"

Orihime propped herself up at an unexpected quick rate. Her long mane of hair was in tangles and her eyes were dazed. She blinked a few times, face red and expression astonished. "I-I'm okay!"

Tessai burst out in a fit of laughter, unable to contain himself.

Ichigo checked Orihime and was satisfied to find nothing visibly wrong. He had to admit it was a funny sight and couldn't help from smiling. It altered Ichigo's demeanor completely, turning him into someone boyish and charming.

Orihime gasped loudly, her heart breaking into a sprint. Her chest grew unbearably tight and she was sure her lungs would rupture. "Kurosaki-san, you're smiling!"

Immediately, Ichigo reverted to a frown. "No, I'm not."

"But you were!" exclaimed Orihime, her face lighting up like the sun and shining brighter than it ever could. "You were smiling and you know it! Look, you're doing it again!"

And he was. Listening to Orihime's rant caused Ichigo's mouth to betray him and twist into another smile. "This isn't a smile," defended Ichigo. "It's a _smirk_. They both start with an S but they're completely different."

"Nuh-uh!" protested Orihime, her own grin reaching her ears. "You're _smiling!"_

"Fine," Ichigo admitted grudgingly. "I guess I am. Happy?"

Orihime giggled, finding his annoyed expression endearing. "Yup!"

Sighing, Ichigo grabbed Orihime by the waist and helped her up. He felt the muscles tense under his touch and his fingers itched to dig deeper. There were still so many parts of Orihime that Ichigo wanted to expose and search himself but he refused to push the gentle girl. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Orihime gazed up at Ichigo, trying to even her breathing. "Un! I'm fine."

Tessai patted Orihime's shoulder as Ichigo assisted her to a seat at the table. "My apologies, Orihime. It wasn't my intention to make you fall."

She grinned bashfully at the large man. "Don't worry about it, Tessai. I'm just unnaturally clumsy."

Tessai nodded and then strolled, leaving Ichigo and Orihime alone. Self conscience, she peeked up at Ichigo from the corner of her eye. She made a vain attempt to smooth down her messy hair but quickly gave up. Turning her attention to her plate, Orihime said, "Umm, would you like some? I have more than enough to eat."

"No, thanks."

Orihime squirmed in her chair, unsure of what to do. It was hard to think straight when Ichigo was so near. Her already disorganized mind overturned and crashed her train of thought.

Ichigo took a seat beside her, leaning back and tilting the chair on its back legs. "What's wrong?"

Orihime ducked her head. "You—You make me nervous."

A large hand fell atop of Orihime's head and Ichigo's long fingers buried themselves in thick locks of caramel, gold and auburn. "There's no reason to be."

Misty eyes traced the contours of Ichigo's face, trying their best to memorize each line. She adored the firmness of his jaw and how the ends of his hair trailed down the nape of his neck. For Orihime, it was too good to be true. To make sure she wasn't dreaming, she inconspicuously pinched her arm.

He caught the movement and withheld a chuckle. Ichigo was fully aware that it would be better to stop whatever there was between him and Orihime before it was too late but he couldn't and he wouldn't.

Still, he had to at least be fair and give her a choice.

"Orihime."

"Y-Yes?"

Ichigo hesitated and took a moment to massage her scalp. It caused Orihime to inch closer, making things harder for him. "You need to think this through."

"This?" she breathed.

Never before had Ichigo felt so much shame. Before, he never cared for the way he lived or his lack of morals and virtues. He stopped feeling the slightest remorse when taking another life but now. . . . Staring at Orihime's innocent face made him hate himself, he was nowhere near worthy. "Orihime, I don't want to take advantage of you."

A worried crinkle formed between her fine brows. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm a lot older than you," he said. "And I've done many horrible things. Things you could not even imagine. I have blood on my hands and I've sinned countless times." Reluctantly, Ichigo pulled back his hand; he didn't even deserve to touch a hair on her head. "But you're pure and deserve someone so much better. Someone good for you."

His voice broke on the last sentence and then the self loathing consumed Ichigo. It was like a howling wind and an unforgiving wave all at once. "I destroy everything I fucking touch—even the people I love too much. So it's okay if you want to end whatever we have going here. I'll stay out of your way and give you space and—"

Warm, succulent lips pressed themselves against Ichigo's while small but surprisingly firm hands gripped his shaking shoulders. Under Orihime's touch, the storm raging inside of him calmed. Out of pure instinct, Ichigo grabbed her by the waist on pulled her closer so she was on his lap and straddling him.

Slowly but fiercely, Orihime kissed Ichigo. She was taking her time, conveying a message, a promise of some sorts. It ripped her heart to shreds watching Ichigo in pain so she gathered all of courage and kissed him thoroughly.

Gently, Orihime broke away, her eyes dark and serious. "I don't care," she murmured. "It doesn't matter to me what you've done in the past." She removed Ichigo's hands from her body and brought them to her lips, softly kissing each finger. "I love your hands. They're strong and warm and _beautiful_."

For emphasis, Orihime skimmed each scar on the back of Ichigo's hand with her lips, hoping that she could somehow heal every one of his wounds. And when his lips took hers, Orihime felt something surge in her chest. She parted her lips when Ichigo insistently tugged and licked her lower lip.

And Ichigo could _taste_ it. There was sweet and untainted love on his tongue and he breathed it in, allowing it to fill his laboring lungs. He was certain he'd give Orihime everything he had—although it hardly amounted to much. But in return for her acceptance, Ichigo offered his ugly heart that was sometimes weak and sometimes strong.

It was interesting how eager Ichigo had been to be alone, how hatefully clear he made this to everyone around him, but Orihime had been persistent, demolishing towering walls with smiles and compassion. Somehow, she managed to see how he truly hurt inside.

Wrapped up in each other's arms, sweaty palms and fingers danced on the fringes of clothes, fiddling and fumbling to make contact. Ichigo skimmed over Orihime's spine and then settled on her lower back, urging her closer and then hissed when her hips rolled into his.

"If you don't tell me to," growled Ichigo as he tasted the skin of Orihime's neck. The nightgown was suddenly his favorite since it gave him better access than he imagined. "I won't stop."

Orihime felt like she had just fallen, she was dizzy and breathless but strangely enough, she liked the sensation. Then she realized that she had fallen in love and miraculously, Ichigo had caught her.

She loved him. She loved _everything_ about him.

She loved the curve of his shoulders, the angles of his collarbones, the brownness of his eyes, the softness of his lips. She adored his cheekbones, his jaw line and every eyelash.

"I—I can't," whispered Orihime, tilting back her head while Ichigo grazed delicate flesh with his teeth. "I don't want to."

Ichigo pushed aside Orihime's sleeve and kissed the constellations of freckles on her skin. An uncontrollable hunger was on the brink of breaking as Ichigo muttered, "We should."

Orihime blushed, wondering how it was possible for her inhibitions to vanish. The problem was her body wanted to keep going. She was fully aware of what their actions were leading up to but she was unable to find the strength to stop.

Violently, she shuddered as Ichigo took her bruised lips again. A whimper escaped her as he pushed her against him and caused her breasts to press onto his hard chest. Heat pooling between her thighs, Orihime grasped onto Ichigo and answered to his demanding kisses.

Cupping her cheek, Ichigo tenderly brushed a thumb along Orihime's cheekbone. Slowly, he slipped his hand to her inner thighs and massaged them. His fingers inched under the skirt of the gown and trailed closer to the lining of her panties, lingering on the waistband.

Ichigo felt her legs tremble in anticipation but he waited, silently asking for permission. Orihime's response was to tug on his hair and deepen the already desperate kiss.

Resuming the task, Ichigo tugged down the undergarment and slipped his hand under to caress her slit. Orihime stiffened and gasped before him. Blinking rapidly, she gazed at him, her face flush and eyes glittering like stardust.

Orihime parted her moist lips to speak and explain her embarrassment but moaned as a long finger plunged inside her. In fascination, Ichigo watched her back arch like a finely sculpted bow. Hurriedly, her breasts rose and fell while she attempted to catch her breath.

Smirking, Ichigo moved his finger languidly, making Orihime warmer and wetter. She held onto him and grinded faintly to create the friction she desired. Ichigo added another finger and Orihime bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Using his free hand, Ichigo brushed aside Orihime's hair from her forehead and kissed her there. Her lashes grazed his chin as they fluttered upward. Smiling, she murmured, "Ichigo . . . ."

His given name tumbled off her tongue sweetly. Groaning into her mouth, Ichigo rubbed harder, finding a special spot inside Orihime that made her pant softly. Raggedly, he whispered her name, his body aching.

There was a pressure building at the bottom of Orihime's stomach and her hips began to buckle as a thumb pressed and rolled a bud of oversensitive nerves. _"A-Ah—!"_

Ichigo's stare darkened, a predatory and possessive glint in his eyes. Having Orihime writhe in his arms made his muscles coil. The ardent _want_ was pulsing in Ichigo's veins and it was taking every once of his self-control to keep his pants on.

Holding Ichigo's face between her hands, Orihime chastely kissed him. "You're . . . you're _so_ important to me . . . ."

Jaw locked, Ichigo felt her warmth clench around his slick fingers. Her pale thighs started shaking as the beginning of an orgasm started to wash over Orihime. Wide eyes that were both coy and brazen looked to him lovingly and Ichigo had to blow out several breaths through clenched teeth to calm himself.

_Shit._

Roughly, Ichigo claimed Orihime's mouth, sucking and nibbling her tongue. He quickened the rhythm of his fingers, delving deeper and deeper. Then Orihime dug blunt nails into Ichigo's shoulders as a moan ripped past her throat.

"_Ichi—Ichigo!"_

Waves of pleasure overtook Orihime, causing her entire body to convulse. Ichigo continued thrusting his fingers inside Orihime, intensifying the exploding sensation. Her back bent gracefully and Ichigo took advantage of it by nipping at her neck and collarbone as she came apart.

Seconds ticked by and Orihime gradually relaxed, still sensing throbbing in that area between her legs. A shudder ripped through her as Ichigo removed his fingers from her wet heat. Exhausted, Orihime collapsed onto him and buried her face into Ichigo's shoulder.

Ichigo wrapped his arms around Orihime, holding her close. Inhaling deeply, he smelled her floral perfume. His voice was low as he asked, "Are you okay?"

Orihime turned her head towards Ichigo and placed a palm on his cheek. Her smile was as wide as the sky, endless and unwavering. "Y-Yes."

Ichigo's mouth edged up. He took a moment to collect himself, struggling to maintain restraint. Swallowing painfully, Ichigo placed his hand over hers. "You should get dressed," he said thickly. "You're meeting with your aunt today."

Shyly, Orihime obliged and tried detangling herself. For a second she swayed as she got onto her feet but Ichigo kept her upright. He raised an amused brow at her. "Do you need me to carry you?"

Quickly, Orihime shook her head. She didn't want to leave, not when Ichigo was letting her see a hidden side of him. "N-No, I'm fine!"

With half-lidded eyes, Ichigo watched Orihime turn on her heals and disappear into the hallway, the many dishes of food left untouched on the table. To satisfy his own hunger, Ichigo brought his wet fingers to his mouth and casually licked off the essence.

**:**

Generously shielded by the mint colored umbrella attached to the table, Orihime waited for Rangiku at the outdoor deck of a trendy little restaurant. She was oblivious of the way she turned heads from passers-bys by simply being _there_. Sitting to her left, Ichigo found it unfair for somebody to be so lovely and humble because it made Orihime completely irresistible.

Orihime hadn't even bothered dressing up, settling on an oversized peach wool sweater and faded blue jeans that hugged her long legs. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft, effortless waves. However, it was the glint of a sliver of silver around her neck that captured Ichigo's attention.

"Orihime?"

She looked up from the table, her cheeks pink. "Yes, Kurosaki-san?"

He grimaced. "I thought by now you'd at least call me by first name."

"S-Sorry," muttered Orihime, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop from replaying their intimate moment together over and over again. She thought it was strange how calm Ichigo was behavior considering what they had just done. "I—I keep forgetting."

"If touching you is the only way to get you to use my first name then I'll do just that."

Orihime's blush darkened. Unbothered, Ichigo had reached over and skimmed his fingers around the base of her neck. "E-Eh, Kuro—Ichigo—?"

Curiously, Ichigo rubbed the thin necklace of silver between his thumb and forefinger. Hanging onto them were two sparkling hibiscus clips that were painted like the summer sky. His brows furrowed together. "What are these?"

Impeccably long lashes shielded Orihime's eyes. Gently, she said, "They're gifts from Onii-chan."

"Why are you hiding them under your sweater?"

Orihime wet her lips before saying, "Because, Otou-san will throw them away if he sees them." She took a deep breath while a flash of sorrowful replayed behind her large eyes. "He—He hated Onii-chan because he wasn't his. But even though I was just his half-sister, Onii-chan was always very kind and patient. These are a gift for my tenth birthday . . . they were the last one I got."

Frowning, Ichigo tilted Orihime's chin up. His brown eyes cryptically roamed her face, admiring how she continued on despite the struggle. Like him, Orihime was lonely even when she was surrounded by people. "Is that why you resent your father?"

"N-No," she whispered, a distressing expression forming on her face. "Otou-san, he—he hurt Onii-chan—" Suddenly there was a giant lump in Orihime's throat and was on the verge of tears. But she didn't want to cry and burden the one she loved, so she looked up, blinked a few times in a vain attempt to rid her tears and sucked in a deep breath.

Then she _smiled_, she smiled so sadly and sweetly that it clutched and squeezed Ichigo's rusty heart. It was suppose to reassure him but it crumbled in seconds as she spoke.

"Otou-san almost killed Onni-chan."

**:**

"I will be having a word with Ochi-sensei about this. It's completely unacceptable and if they don't properly handle this, they'll be dealing with me. There's no way some handsy little kid is getting away with feeling up my niece—"

Orihime stuttered, trying but not succeeding in calming down Rangiku. The older woman had that familiar determination set in her gaze as she continued to rant. "O-Oba, it's okay! I'm fine now so there's no need to do anything—"

Rangiku shook her head, blonde hair whipping around her. "I don't think so, Orihime. I'm going to make them _pay."_

Sitting beside Rangiku was Gin, who smiled slyly. He found the whole exchange quite entertaining. "Hell hath no wrath like Rangiku."

Ichigo sighed, tired of hearing the conversation progress. Poor Orihime had no hope to sooth Rangiku. "I already dealt with it, Matsumoto."

Rangiku turned to Ichigo who sat across from her. He hadn't said a single word since her and Gin's arrival, only grunting in acknowledgement then proceeding to sit and brood unhappily. She raised a sharply shaped brow. "You _dealt _with it?"

Ichigo nodded, looking more annoyed than usual. "Yeah. He won't ever go near Orihime again."

After taking a moment, a wry smile stretched across Rangiku's face. She had caught how Orihime's eyes flickered to Ichigo warily. "I knew I could trust you."

A young waiter appeared, his attention immediately drawn to a fidgeting Orihime. She was too preoccupied with wrapping a loose strand of wool around her pinky to even notice his presence.

Overly enthusiastic, he took everyone's orders. Grinning, he turned to Orihime. "And what can I get you, Miss?"

Orihime didn't even flinch. Over and over again, she twirled the string of wool around her finger and then let it unwind. Subtly, Ichigo glimpsed at her, sensing her mental absence and apprehension. "Hey."

At the sound of Ichigo's voice, Orihime paused and looked up. "H-Huh?"

Ichigo turned away and scowled at the waiter. Orihime saw how his expression was dark and his fists were curled underneath the table. "Tell him what you want to eat."

Flushing, Orihime quickly scanned the first page of the menu, picking the first thing she thought was edible and inexpensive. "Umm, a chicken salad will be fine."

Rangiku gaped at her, evidently astonished. "Is that all you're going to eat, Orihime?"

Orihime squirmed a bit and then shrugged her shoulders. Determined, she avoided Ichigo's probing gaze, certain that he'd see right through her. "I'm not all that hungry."

Orihime continued to feel both Rangiku and Ichigo's eyes on her but she pretended not to notice. Instead she answered the waiter when he asked what she wanted to drink. "An iced tea."

An awkward silence followed once the waiter parted and Orihime was unable to stand it. Excusing herself, she escaped inside the restaurant in search of the ladies room. Of course, she should have known better because Ichigo was right on her heels.

"Orihime."

Her body reacted like she expected, immediately it was drawn to Ichigo the way birds were attracted to the sky. They belonged in the sky the same way she belonged to him. Orihime's feet stopped in the deserted hallway leading to the backrooms.

"What's wrong?"

Ichigo's voice was hoarse and it scratched Orihime in all the right places. How was it possible for him to touch her without laying a single finger on her?

Orihime turned to him, biting the inside of her cheek. "I—I shouldn't have told you that."

Ichigo knew exactly what Orihime was referring to. "Why not?"

Being close to Ichigo didn't help Orihime so she stepped back. Distance was good, safe even. "B-Because now you're angry."

"I'm not angry."

"You are."

Weakened by Orihime's wide eyes, Ichigo grounded his molars together. "Okay, I'll admit it, I'm fucking pissed. I want to find your sorry excuse of a father and break every bone of his worthless carcass."

Laughing bitterly to herself, Orihime murmured, "This is why I shouldn't have said anything. I want to make you happy not mad."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed into slits. "No, I'm _glad_ you told me," he snapped. "I need to know this—I need to know _everything_ about you, Orihime. I want to know about your dreams and fears and all that stuff in between." Aggravated, he raked his hair with his hand. "I want to know who's broken your heart so I can kick that bastard's ass—I want to know why you look so painfully beautiful and sad when you think I'm not looking. . . . And I want to know why you're so scared of your father because I need to protect you, goddamn it."

Her chest felt tight again and it was so hard to breathe. Powerful emotions filled up Orihime and dug their roots into her skin like pretty wildflowers. Shoulders shaking, she said brokenly, "I don't want him to hurt you too, Ichigo—I don't want to lose another person I love."

Staring at Orihime, Ichigo realized how truly lonely and kind, sad and bright, damaged and wise she was. She was so selfless, wishing to never see anyone suffer the way she did. Honestly, she became even lovelier in his eyes.

Orihime's back met with the hallway's wall as Ichigo pushed her up against it and desperately kissed her. One hand held onto her hip while the other landed on side of her head, shielding her face. They were alone in the shadows so no one noticed the two exchange air.

Ichigo's tongue ran over the roof of her mouth and she couldn't hold back the sound in the back of her throat. Orihime hands grasped the front of Ichigo's button up, afraid her knees would give way.

The kiss was slow and intimate, lips caressing each other. Orihime savored each moment, tucking the memories away for safe keeping. He released her, taking one more bite on her bottom lip that left Orihime yearning for more.

No words were spoken, they weren't needed. She loved him so much there wasn't room for anything else. And it was so nice to be in Ichigo's arms. She had never belonged anywhere or to anyone. People always thought she was too peculiar and that's why Orihime loved him—because he just thought of her as _Orihime_, not the outsider or the china doll.

"Don't worry," he told her. "I'm not going anywhere."


	7. her pain brought on his

**notes: **Thank you, thank you guys for the reviews. They were great and helped me produce this chapter faster than usual (I had a dash of writer's block; nothing I wrote was flowing or turning out right). Anyways, we're nearly halfway done here and things are going to pick up. There are still many secrets and twists to be revealed.

As always, please let me know what you think! Your reviews and thoughts are welcomed.

Off topic: So I've been wondering about this question regarding Orihime. Okay, so we basically know Ichigo's the freakin' Avatar (he's _everything!_), Ishida's a Quincy, Sado's a Fullbringer but what about Hime? Idk, does anyone have any theories?

**rating: **T+

**disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_her pain brought on his_

**:**

The sun was warm but the air was chilly and that was the sole reason why the autumn weather was bearable. Ichigo was leaning against the Mercedes parked on the curve of the wide avenue that was adorned with old, traditional structures. His hands were pocketed in his dark jeans while a dandelion was stuck in the button hole of his grey jacket, a happy reminder of a vibrant girl.

Orihime had spotted the little yellow flower sprouting from the cracks of the sidewalks and immediately offered it to Ichigo with a sunshine filled smile. Without a word, he had taken it, fingers lingering on hers.

Craning his neck, Ichigo stared up at a window on the second story of the building where white curtains rustled in the breeze. From there came the smooth sound of Debussy's _Clair de Lune_ that Ichigo's particularly liked. As expected, Orihime was doing a wonderful job.

Taking a moment, he pushed up his sleeve and checked his watch for the time. Orihime's private piano lesson would be over in five minutes. He debated on where to take her for lunch but faltered from his thoughts when a silver car slowed down and then came to a stop near Ichigo.

Muscles coiling, he straightened up and watched as the driver opened the door and then stepped out. "Aha!" exclaimed the newcomer, waving. "I _knew_ I recognized that orange hair of yers!"

Ichigo cringed at the voice but was genuinely surprised to see a familiar face. Brows scrunched together and his mouth turned down, he grumbled, "What the hell?"

Before Ichigo stood Shinji Hirako, wearing his trademark button up shirt and tie. His grin was as dry as ever. "Hello to ya too, douche bag."

Ichigo cocked a brow. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just passin' by," said Shinji, his attention pausing on Ichigo's flower. "Drivin' clears my head, ya know?"

"That's not what I meant, asshole," snickered Ichigo. "Why are you here in _China?"_

Nonchalantly, Shinji shrugged and then indicted with his hands towards the scenery of red and orange trees. The fallen leaves clattered along the ground as a breeze passed by. "It's lovely this time of year."

Jaw locking, Ichigo snapped, "You annoying fuck—"

The chimes of the clock tower a block over interrupted the two. Automatically, Ichigo turned towards the building and saw the front door swing open to reveal Orihime and her teacher. He was a small, old man who patted her shoulder twice and nodded in approval.

Smiling kindly, Orihime bowed and then stepped out. Glancing around, she quickly caught sight of Ichigo. Brightening up, she scurried over to him with her auburn hair flowing right behind. "Ne, I'm all done Ichigo! We can go home now."

Shinji tilted his head to side, observing how Ichigo's hard expression melted for the girl. "Hmmm."

Once Orihime reached Ichigo, she blinked at Shinji as though barely realizing him. "Eh, are you a friend of Ichigo's?"

Slightly dazed by Orihime's smile, Shinji took a second to collect himself. Then he smirked wickedly at her. "Yes, the name's Shinji but I'm more interested in finding out who _you _are; for you are the most beautiful woman I've ever encountered," he proclaimed. "You have captured my heart, love of mine."

Swiftly, Ichigo wrapped an arm around Orihime's waist and yanked her aside before Shinji could throw himself at her. "I don't think so, bastard."

Shinji rolled his eyes. "So damn possessive."

Orihime kept quiet, silently watching how Ichigo and Shinji spoke to each other. Although Ichigo was cursing at him, there was no true venom in his voice. In fact, he actually seemed relaxed around the blond stranger.

Shinji raised his brows suggestively as Ichigo's hold on Orihime tightened. "Well, waddaya ya know, you've inherited your old man's taste for gingers."

Ichigo was impassive, muttering, "Shut up, dip shit."

Shinji waved a disapproving finger at Ichigo like he was chiding a problematic child. "That's no language to use around a lady, Ichigo."

Heat rushed up to Orihime's face when Shinji looked to her expectedly, silently asking her opinion on the matter. "A-Ah, I-I don't mind!"

Shinji's already crooked mouth tilted to the side as he continued to scrutinize Orihime with immense interest. Carefully, he took in her appearance, deducing she had the kind of beauty that could drive men to do whatever her heart desired. "What's your name?"

"Orihime," she answered softly. "Orihime Inoue."

"That's a perty name you got there," said Shinji. He took a second to appraise her school uniform. "How old are ya, princess?"

Orihime felt Ichigo tense beside her as she stuttered out, "S-Seventeen."

A wry grin stretched Shinji's face, going from ear to ear. Turning to Ichigo, he snickered, "You sly bastard. I didn't know you had a thing for younger woman; you're as bad as Kisuke."

Patience worn thin, Ichigo glowered at the blond and snapped, "Don't compare me to that idiot." Then Ichigo tugged Orihime by the arm, telling her that he needed to get her home. He was glad she did not protest as he assisted her into the passenger seat.

Before Ichigo shut the door, Orihime happily waved at Shinji. "Bye, bye, Shinji~!"

Remaining by the curb, Ichigo looked to Shinji with a grimace. "I'm guessing things must be bad for you to show up."

Shinji shrugged but Ichigo knew that meant yes. "Somethin' ugly is happening around these parts, so Kisuke called me and the others in. Nothin' has occurred yet but I'm getting that vibe it won't be long till something does come up." He paused and motioned at Orihime. "I'm guessin' she comes from money, so keep a close eye on her."

Ichigo nodded, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. He was suddenly feeling annoyed with Urahara. "Thanks for the heads up."

The seriousness evaporated from Shinji's expression. Rotating on his heels, he casually tossed his hand as a farewell. "See ya' around, Ichigo. I hope to get an invite to you and Orihime's wedding!"

Running a hand through his hair, Ichigo got into the car and swiftly pulled the vehicle away. Minutes ticked by and he could sense Orihime peeking curiously at him. He knew she had questions she was polite enough not to press him at the moment.

Ichigo's mind was racing, wondering what was so dangerous in China that Urahara felt the need to call Shinji and their comrades. Whatever it was, it had to be extremely threatening. If that was true, then Ichigo needed to know what was going on in order to properly care for Orihime.

He must've looked incredibly distressed because Orihime placed her soft hand on his forearm and asked, "Are you okay, Ichigo?"

He gave a non-committal grunt, his grip on the wheel slacking under her touch. Ichigo sighed, aware it was only fair to confide in Orihime. "We used to work together."

Brows puckering, Orihime said, "You and Shinji?"

Ichigo kept his eyes on the road, easily maneuvering through the heavy traffic of the freeway. "Yeah, we were part of an exclusive unit." He hesitated, somewhat fearful of what Orihime would think of him. "We specialized in taking the lives of corrupt and troublesome political figures."

Orihime gave Ichigo's arm a comforting squeeze. She could clearly see the cracks on his outer shell and peered inside to find secrets he was too afraid to share. Instead of bringing it up, she asked, "Why is he here?"

"I'm not sure," said Ichigo. "Either he's here as a precaution or some unlucky fool ended up on his list."

Orihime wet her lips, searching for enough nerve to ask what had been bugging her. "You've stopped working for them?"

"You can't really stop," explained Ichigo, his mouth in a permanent frown. "Technically I've been on an extended leave and they've been wise enough to not need me."

Fear bubbled in Orihime's body, followed by panic. "So does that mean they can take you away if they did?"

Ichigo gave her a sidelong glance. His eyes were burning with resolve and Orihime felt her body tingle as they moved over her face. "They don't tell me what to do anymore."

"But you just said—"

"I know," said Ichigo, his grip on the wheel turning dangerous. "I'm going to have to handle this, but either way I'm done working for them; I work for someone else now."

Long lashes fluttered as Orihime blinked. Confused, she asked, "Who?"

The car stopped at a red light and Ichigo used the opportunity to directly face Orihime. He said nothing, the answer clear. It was her.

**:**

Strolling a few steps behind Orihime, Ichigo followed her back into the Inoue household. One of the housekeepers took her school bag for Orihime and informed her that Rangiku was in the parlor and was waiting for them to return.

Silently, Ichigo accompanied Orihime. Right away, he noticed the manner Rangiku looked at him. It was worse than the way she scrutinized him when they first met. Her blue eyes were hard and wary of him as he entered.

Politely, Orihime bowed. "Hello Oba."

Rangiku took a sip from the glass of wine she held in her hand and motioned for them to sit down. Not once did she smile. "How was school, Orihime?"

"Good."

Rangiku turned to Ichigo, a brow raised and expression smooth but he saw through the façade she was attempting to compose. Easily, Ichigo detected fear in her face. "I spoke with Ochi-sensei today and she told me how you _dealt_ with that kid."

Ichigo remained impassive. "And?"

Rangiku rubbed her lips together. "And you failed to mention yesterday that you nearly knocked him unconscious. Ochi-sensei said his family is threatening a lawsuit."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" snapped Ichigo, his teeth grounding together. "You told me you didn't want guys touching Orihime."

Rangiku's gaze narrowed. "You took it too far, Kurosaki."

"He got what he deserved."

Sighing, Rangiku stood up. "I have to work this out with Ochi-sensei. I'm not sorry that you hurt the kid but I wish you would've handled it better."

Orihime watched her aunt disappear into the dark hallway. "Do you think Oba is mad at you?"

Ichigo looked to Orihime, his eyes dark. "I think she's afraid of me. Most people are."

Orihime considered this and then stared at Ichigo. Her voice was as soft as a feather when she said, "I'm not afraid of you, Ichigo."

"I know you're not."

Tentatively, Orihime grab Ichigo's hand, running a thumb over the scars she wished to heal with the sweetest of kisses. "Are you afraid of me?"

Ichigo watched her with half-lidded eyes, feeling something lurch in his chest. He waited for a second and then decided. "I used to be. At first. But not anymore."

Orihime's smile was huge, as wide as the sky. There was so much _love_ in the way she looked at Ichigo that it hurt. "I'm glad."

**:**

The den Ichigo resided in was cozy and dimly lit. Outside, the sun was on the brink of setting. Stoically, Ichigo sat in one of the fine leather chairs with a book in hand. His eyes would scan a paragraph or two and then flicker upward toward the auburn haired girl studying at the desk.

A thick and messy braid filled with strands of red, honey and russet trailed down her spine. They were warm colors that matched her personality. Bent over her textbook and notebook, Orihime scribbled away information. As she concentrated on reading, a pair of black framed glasses was sliding down the bridge of her nose.

After a while, Ichigo gave up on _Othello _and focused on observing Orihime, noting how she'd murmur to herself and thoughtfully chew the pen's cap. He liked how her nose would scrunch up whenever she didn't understand something and the way she became engrossed with her studies.

At some point, Orihime realized Ichigo was staring at her. Immediately she flushed at his intense gaze but she didn't shy away. Smiling gently, she asked for his assistance. "Could you help me with my history essay?"

Slowly Ichigo stood up and approached Orihime. He hovered over her shoulder as he skimmed through her work. If he leaned in enough, Ichigo could smell her aroma of roses. "You need to write about the causes of the Iraq War?"

Orihime nodded, fighting a shiver as Ichigo's breath touched her ear. "I'm kind of confused."

"The United States got involved after Nine Eleven when they attacked by Al Qaeda terrorists," said Ichigo stiffly. "Iraq was also hiding and protecting Osama bin Laden and the U.S. believed Saddam Hussein had developed weapons of mass destruction."

Orihime jotted down what Ichigo was telling her, wondering how he easily knew the information. "Umm, what kind of weapons were they making?"

Ichigo answered in a factual tone, like he was merely reporting evidence. "They tried building nuclear weapons and they also used poisonous gas against Iran and its own citizens."

Orihime nodded, urging Ichigo to continue.

"Hussein also had control of one the largest oil deposits and refused to use the revenue on his people. His military was offensive and had Kuwait invaded. It was to become the nineteenth province of Iraq."

Pausing, Orihime brushed her bangs away from her face. "How come you know so much about these countries?"

Ichigo shrugged. "I had to do my own homework on them when I was stationed there."

"What did you do there?" asked Orihime. "Is that where you met the man with the cigarettes?"

Ichigo shook his head while rubbing a few of Orihime's flyaway strands of hair between his fingers. "No, that was in Columbia."

Orihime's pulse accelerated as Ichigo's hand lazily moved along her neck and to her jaw line, tracing each curve. He tilted her chin up, taking his time to appreciate her face that was adorned with high cheekbones, long lashes and full lips. Scorching amber eyes met hers while his calloused thumb teasingly glided over her lower lip.

Orihime's wide eyes turned smokey as a silver mist filled them, anticipating his next move. Barely managing to find her voice, she breathed, "Ichigo . . .?"

Tenderly, he kissed her mouth. Starting slow, Ichigo worked his way, nipping and sucking. One hand held her jaw, coaxing her to part her lips while the other grabbed her shoulder to hold her in place.

The pen slipped from Orihime's hand and fell the floor. Her mind turned hazy and her lashes lowered as Ichigo's tongue moved against hers, causing her entire body to tingle. Heart racing, Orihime scraped the back of Ichigo's neck with her nail, playing with the long ends of orange hair there.

As the room grew hotter, Orihime tried to keep up with Ichigo who hungrily feasted on her mouth. She felt herself reacting like the last time, wanting more and more. Feverishly, she returned Ichigo's kisses, massaging his tongue with her own.

Back arching, Orihime pushed herself closer trying to ignore the heat between her thighs. She panted heavily against Ichigo's lips when he paused to let her catch her breath. He growled low in his throat as he felt Orihime's soft hands slide under his shirt, touching tense muscles.

The sound of echoing footsteps forced Ichigo to grudgingly pull away. Quickly he straightened himself up and leaned against the desk with his arms crossed. Beside him, Orihime wiped her mouth and tried to control the raging blush on her face.

The housekeeper entered. "Iwao is on the phone. He wishes to speak with you, Kurosaki."

Orihime's wide eyes fell upon Ichigo, the two exchanging a look. He nodded at her and she shakily stood up to trail behind him as they stepped out of the den and into the parlor. The housekeeper handed over to phone to Ichigo and then exited to them privacy.

Ichigo spoke into the phone. "Iwao."

"Hello Kurosaki," replied Iwao brusquely. "I take that my daughter is doing well?"

Ichigo allowed Orihime to scoot in close enough to overhear the conversation. "Yes."

"Good," said Iwao. "Let her know Hisagi has returned to Beijing and would like to spend the afternoon with her."

A painful lump formed and remained lodged in Orihime's throat. Suddenly she was sick, feeling dizzy and nauseous. Swallowing, Orihime tried seeing Ichigo's reaction, noting how his grip on the phone was becoming extremely tight.

"I will call Rangiku to assist Orihime with preparing herself for the occasion—"

"She can't."

On the other end of the line, Iwao wavered. "Who can't?" he demanded.

"Orihime," snapped Ichigo through gritted teeth. "She has school and swim practice right after—"

"I thought I made myself clear," snickered Iwao. "Orihime does not require either of those activities. Her only concern should be capturing Hisagi's affection."

Orihime wanted to yell at the top of her lungs. This was not how she wanted a husband; she didn't want her relationships to be based on money and titles. Honestly, she didn't care for any of it, she was fine with living a humble life that did not include grand parties or important people.

To be with Ichigo was all Orihime wanted.

Ichigo knew his temper was flaring and getting wildly out of control. His blood was running hot and the instinctive urge to hurt somebody was kicking in. Ichigo could not handle the idea of another man touching what was his. "What if she doesn't like him?"

"It doesn't matter," retorted Iwao haughtily. "I'm the one who decides her future."

The call ended, leaving the dial tone to drag on as Ichigo resisted the impulse to throw the phone against the wall. Stiffly, he returned the handheld device back to its holster. Then Ichigo turned to Orihime who was battling an onslaught of sparkling tears. It was futile and soon they spilled over, streaking down the planes of her face.

Her heart trembled behind her ribcage, bleeding profusely from shame and guilt. Unable to put away her emotions, Orihime laid her head heavy in her hands like a rain soaked flower. "I'm s-sorry," she whimpered. "I'm _so_ sorry, Ichigo—"

Ichigo watched Orihime's knees knock together while she crumble away piece by piece. He felt like holding her, cradling her in his arms where he'd keep her safe and sound but he couldn't move. Over and over again, Ichigo kept thinking of Hisagi growing intimate with her.

Orihime was unraveling like thread. Before she could completely fall apart, Orihime rushed out and ran upstairs to shut herself in her bedroom. It stayed quiet until Ichigo heard the sounds of Orihime crying and he realized how her pain brought on his.

**:**

With puffy eyes, Orihime slipped on her school coat and adjusted the hem of her short fitted skirt. It did not matter how many times she tugged on it, the skirt would rise back up to expose her crème thighs. Giving up on the task, Orihime grabbed her duffle bad and satchel and then headed downstairs.

Although she could not cancel the afternoon with Hisagi, Orihime decided to disobey her father and attend school and swimming practice. At the least, she could hurry home and dress decently by the time he arrived. It would be difficult and risky but Orihime was tired of being pushed around.

Right before Orihime trudged into the kitchen to head into the backyard to wake Ichigo, she spotted something orange. He was sitting in the parlor waiting for her in a tan leather jacket and jeans. His perusal was lazy when Orihime came into view. Ichigo's mouth twisted into a taunting smirk, realizing what she was implying and planning to do.

Orihime couldn't find the right words to say but it didn't matter, Ichigo beat her to it. "You're more rebellious than you let on." With his shoulder, he indicated for her follow. "Come on, you'll be late for school."

As usual, the drive was mainly quiet as both refused to bring up Hisagi or Iwao. The air wasn't awkward but it was tense. To keep herself busy, Orihime clicked through radio stations. Part of her was especially pleased that Ichigo had expected her to defy her father's wishes.

Orihime understood her situation was still complicated. It wasn't fair to her or Ichigo but she had no idea to make things right. Mainly she was afraid she'd most certainly do more damage than good.

When they arrived, Orihime saw Tatsuki near the school entrance with her dark hair tied up in a bouncy ponytail. The kung fu prodigy was knocked breathless by Orihime's ample chest while they embraced. Smiling softly, Tatsuki patted her friend's back. "Relax Orihime, we saw each other yesterday, remember?"

"I know," murmured Orihime, "but I still want to hug you."

Tatsuki pulled back, getting a good look at Orihime. The smile gracing her friend's lips was genuine and somewhat sweeter. Automatically, Tatsuki's attention moved to the tall orange haired man towering behind Orihime. He was still frightening but his eyes seemed slightly softer when they fell upon the cheerful girl made up of sunshine and sugar.

The bell rang and the students rushed to their classrooms. Orihime turned to Ichigo, her gaze soft and pleading. "You'll be there right, at my practice?"

Ichigo nodded. "Yeah."

Orihime smiled and then reluctantly strolled into the hallway with Tatsuki, casting one more glance towards Ichigo who went ahead and walked aay, disappearing into the crowd of students, teachers and cars.

Tatsuki's brows furrowed together as Orihime stared after her body guard, longing evident in her gray eyes.

**:**

Happily, the students exited from their classes once the final bell rang. Together, Orihime and Tatsuki strolled from the main building to the gym. As discreetly as she could, Tatsuki examined Orihime, noticing she was more absentminded than normal.

"Hey," started Tatsuki, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Orihime faltered from counting her footsteps. "H-Huh?"

Tatsuki stared at her seriously. "Are you okay? You don't seem all there."

Swiftly, Orihime offered a smile. "I'm fine," she assured while her eyes spoke otherwise. "I just have a lot on my mind, that's all."

There was no doubt in Tatsuki that Orihime was hiding something from her. It annoyed her a bit because no matter what, she always knew the secret sooner or later. "You sure?"

Orihime nodded. "Yup!"

Tatsuki gave her a dubious look but didn't press her any further. That was one thing that frustrated her about Orihime, she was very private about her problems and refused to share the smallest details.

They had reached the spot where they were forced to part ways. Orihime thanked Tatsuki for her concern and scurried off to the indoor pool. As she departed, Orihime waved childishly. "Have fun at practice Tatsuki~!"

"Yeah . . ."

**:**

From afar, Ichigo watched Orihime crouch at the starting block of the pool. Her muscles curled in anticipation, preparing and awaiting the start. Due to the tightness of the blue swimsuit, Ichigo could clearly see each graceful arc and curve of her body.

_Bang!_

Ichigo shook his head when Orihime faltered and then splashed into the water. She took off, playing a game of chase with the other swimmers. Elegantly, Orihime moved with the water passing her competitors one by one and then finishing third.

Sighing, Ichigo went over the lip of the pool and crouched down. Orihime moved her goggles off her eyes, giving him her full attention. "I know, it was bad."

"You don't flinch when a gun goes off; you react," explained Ichigo, helping Orihime out of the water and back onto the block. "Don't listen for the sound. Don't anticipate it. Concentrate on the sound itself."

Orihime's brows scrunched together. "I don't understand."

"You will," said Ichigo. "Try it again."

"But practice is over," started Orihime, motioning at the other girls scurrying into the locker rooms. "And I'm—"

"_Again."_

Orihime adjusted her cap and goggles and settled into another crouch. Standing next to her, Ichigo clapped his hands directly beside her ear causing Orihime to recoil at the sound. He frowned at her and she shrugged in apology.

"Don't be afraid of the gun shot," said Ichigo. "Instead, you welcome it because it's the sound that lets you go. It frees you. You're stuck on those blocks until you hear it."

Eyes closed, Orihime drifted off with his voice, trusting and believing in him. She inhaled deeply, calming and steadying herself.

And then Ichigo clapped his hands right in front of her face, the sound vibrating against the tile floor and walls. This time, Orihime kept still and grinned widely, only she was unable to see Ichigo smiling at the sight.

So Orihime trained, bolting from the block and knifing into the water. Again and again, she surged forward, arcing and striding within the water. Her mind had focused itself solely on swimming, guiding her through technique and pushing her through fatigue.

Finally, Orihime reached the finish line. Panting heavily, she looked up to Ichigo who glanced away from his watch and clapped. "Good job."

Orihime laughed happily, feeling tired and relieved. Completely exhausted, she pulled herself out of the pool. She shivered at the sudden contact of cold air and then squealed as Ichigo throw a towel around her and rubbed her down.

"Y-You don't have to do that!" exclaimed Orihime, flushing. Her cap came undone, setting her hair free from its confinements. .

Ichigo said nothing and continued drying her off. For the most part, he was gentle, wiping her shoulders and arms then going lower and lower.

"Orihime."

Ichigo's paused from his ministrations and then scowled when he realized they were no longer alone like he preferred. Entering was Hisagi, staring hungrily at a red faced Orihime who was still dressed in her tiny swimsuit.

Annoyed, Ichigo covered Orihime's body with the towel. "Go get dressed," he ordered, his tone too controlled to pass as normal.

Hesitant, Orihime peeked from Ichigo to Hisagi, both men gazing intently at her. Lowering her chin, Orihime nodded. "Er," she said to Hisagi, wondering how he could have possibly found her when he was supposed to be at her house. "Please, give me a moment."

Once Orihime slipped into the locker rooms, Ichigo shot a glare at Hisagi who responded with one just as fierce. Dark gray eyes met scorching amber, challenging the other. Both men made it very apparent that they detested the other.

Hisagi spoke, raising a sardonic brow at Ichigo. "I didn't know Orihime was a swimmer."

Ichigo pocketed his hands and grumbled, "There's a lot of thing you don't know about her."

"I can see that," sneered Hisagi, an air of superiority around him. "I also didn't know her body guard was in love with her."


	8. sweeter than heaven, hotter than hell

**notes: **Hey everybody! Yeah, sorry I've been MIA for the past month. Holidays then a new semester has kept me busy. UGH. Plus, writing this chapter was a bit stressful. Nothing felt right for some reason but oh well, it's done.

I really tried to have Ichigo and Orihime open up to each other. I wanted to show another side of them; soft Ichigo and tough Orihime.

Anyways, on a brighter note we broke the hundred mark on reviews! :D Thank you so much guys. You're all simply wonderful! It makes me so happy knowing you enjoy this story enough to leave a review.

So in honor to you guys, this update is dedicated to: sweet-penelope, naleah, Renee, Talita Silva, Summer Eclair, SarahRosa1415, Moneymaka, Xtremefairy , Jaylonni Love, Ermilus, nypsy, JustDance3Fan, hapezibah, heather XD, OrihimeKurosakiInoue, Child of the Ashes, Rochelleteentitan, melnel, OnePrincess, AbaraiArekushisu, Somerlia, dantheman23, Bridge2thePast, SkinnyMoose and Dakk Tribal.

Here's to my first update of 2013.

**rating: **M

Yes, you've been given a dose of smut here c: Enjoy!

**disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_sweeter than heaven, hotter than hell_

**:**

No matter how hard Orihime tried, she could not control her racking nerves. Her heart and bones were trembling uncontrollably as she pulled out her clothing from her locker. A blush was still on Orihime's face while she slipped back into her school uniform. Fingers shaking, she struggled to button up her blouse.

Her mind was a complete mess. Orihime strained to get her thoughts in order but they were chaotically clashing against one another. Happiness brought on by Ichigo was conflicted by worries of Iwao's plans and Hisagi's sudden appearance.

Orihime pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. Things were beginning to get complicated and she feared she wouldn't be strong enough to hold everything together. Before she hardly cared what would happen to her but now with Ichigo in her life, Orihime felt obligated to protect him. He was resilient and capable of fighting off danger but Iwao was different.

It was a lesson Orihime learned well as a child. The methods and games Iwao played were deceitful and bloody and always included him winning. Her brother had tried to outsmart Iwao and nearly died in the process. Everyone that went against her father failed.

Perhaps what she was doing was a mistake. This time letting her heart win would mean involving Ichigo into something risky. The idea of him getting hurt brought hot tears to Orihime's eyes.

"I-I'm so selfish," she whispered, wiping her face.

Being alone was not to protect herself; it was meant to protect others.

But now Orihime wasn't sure if she could let Ichigo go. They had reached the point of no return and she chose to stay by his side. And in order for things to stay that way, she had to be strong. For once in her life, Orihime had someone she wanted to protect and cherish.

It was frightening of course. This time Orihime was playing her father's game not as one of his pawns but rather as his opponent. He was definitely a lot smarter than she and quite cunning.

The time to decide between fight or flight had arrived.

And at this point, her legs were tired of running.

**:**

Hisagi stood tall with his eyes hard as he stared back at a glaring Ichigo. He had arrived at the Inoue household only to be informed by an uneasy Rangiku that Orihime was attending swim practice and when he finally turned up at the aquatic center, he found the auburn haired girl with a rugged looking man. When Hisagi spotted the orange hair, he recognized Ichigo as one of the bodyguards who attended the party.

Frowning, Hisagi spoke. "Are you in love with Orihime?"

Ichigo's amber eyes grew tight. "Is that a problem?"

Hisagi wavered for a moment, surprised that Ichigo didn't deny the accusation. Grounding his molars together, Hisagi retorted, "It is for you."

Ichigo's arrogant smirk further annoyed Hisagi. "How is that a problem?"

"It's a problem because you can't have her," snapped Hisagi. "I always get what I want and I want her."

Ichigo chuckled darkly. "You don't know shit about her."

"And you do?" replied Hisagi angrily.

"More than you," responded Ichigo. "I know how she likes to be touched, I know her secrets, and I can tell you which spots make her moan the most."

Hisagi's eyes narrowed. "You fucking bastard. How dare you—"

Orihime stepped out from the locker rooms and appeared before the two. Sensing the tense atmosphere, her wide eyes anxiously flickered back and forth. "Is everything alright?"

Ichigo took a step towards Orihime and grabbed her duffle bag off her shoulder. "Actually, Hisagi was just leaving," he explained. "Something came up at his office so he came to apologize for the cancellation."

Blinking in surprise, Orihime turned to Hisagi. "Really? That's too bad."

Hisagi was seething. He had encountered assholes in the business world and dealt with stubborn co-executives but Ichigo had not only pissed him off, he had successfully gotten Hisagi to hate everything about him in just a few moments.

Hisagi cleared his throat and offered Orihime an apologetic smile. "I know it's unfortunate," he said, his voice smooth, almost liquid. "But to make it up to you, I've made us dinner reservations for tomorrow evening."

Ichigo swallowed hard. As expected, Hisagi wasn't someone who easily backed down.

A lovely shade of pink emerged on Orihime's face. "I-Is that so?"

Hisagi nodded and made a move to leave. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at six o'clock."

Confused, Orihime watched Hisagi disappear. She wasn't sure whether or not her luck had gotten better or worse. Long fingers wrapped her thin wrist, tugging for her attention. She looked to Ichigo who stared at her with heavy-lidded eyes; his gaze was intense and caused Orihime's toes to curl.

Voice hoarse, Ichigo said, "Let's go."

Silently, Orihime allowed Ichigo to lead her out. Frustration and anger seemed to be radiating off his body as he helped her inside the passenger seat of the car. When he turned the ignition on and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, Orihime desperately searched for words to say.

She only came up with two.

"I'm sorry."

Brows etched together, Ichigo peeked at her. "For what?"

Orihime fiddled with the ends of hair; they were still damp which caused the strand to transform into fiery shades of red. Examining them reminded Orihime of the fire that burned inside of Ichigo whenever they were together. "For everything," she answered melancholically. "I'm trying to be strong for you. I want to become a better person but it's hard."

"You don't have to change anything about yourself, Orihime." Ichigo inhaled deeply, trying to relax his tight muscles. "I'll be strong enough for the both of us. Just—Just don't let them take you from me."

At that last sentence, the mask Ichigo wore slipped off. Orihime wasn't surprised to see how vulnerable he really was. And it was beautiful, _he_ was beautiful. Like her, he had countless scars and wounds that never completely healed. He seemed to be missing pieces of himself and she prayed that she could replace them with parts of herself.

As individuals they were broken but maybe it was because someone else was made to fill that void.

Gently, Orihime slipped her nimble fingers into the spaces between his and smiled at how perfectly they seemed to fit.

**:**

Rather than go straight home, Ichigo stopped at Orihime's favorite café. They sat beside each other in a corner booth, him enjoying a plain coffee while she happily devoured two caramel coated doughnuts.

Using his thumb, Ichigo wiped the corner of her mouth. "Sometimes you really behave like a child." He smiled slightly when she flushed deeply. "But other times . . ." Ichigo traced the line of her full bottom lip. "Other times you're the complete opposite."

Orihime's thick lashes lowered and as they did, they swept against warm cheekbones. "I-Ichigo, what were you like as a child?"

He paused, moving his hand to tuck a flyaway hair behind Orihime's ear. "I was a brat," he said. "I was constantly getting into trouble even when I wasn't looking for it."

Orihime smiled at this. "Really?"

"Yeah. I got into a lot of fights because people hated my hair color." Ichigo brushed through Orihime's tendrils, noting how soft they were. "They thought it was weird."

"When I first moved here," said Orihime quietly, "my classmates would call me a _waiguoren_ because of my hair. They thought it was ugly and tried cutting it . . . I managed to stop them because Onii-chan liked my hair and I didn't want to disappoint him." Orihime's little smile was sad as she remembered Sora being the only person who thought she was beautiful. "That's why I never cut it."

Ichigo remained silent, his hand still tangled in long locks of auburn hair. He was thinking something over but couldn't come up with the right answer. Leaning in, he asked, "What does _waiguoren_ mean?"

"It means foreigner," answered Orihime. "An outsider."

Ichigo was close enough that his breath fanned over Orihime's forehead. "Well, I've always been a _waiguoren,_ even in my own country."

"I'm a _waiguoren_ in my own family."

They smiled like children at each other. As Ichigo pulled Orihime closer she rested her head against his broad shoulder. With each intake of breath, she smelled the musky cologne and laundry detergent that seeped into his skin.

"Orihime?"

Content, her eyes had drifted closed. "Hmm?"

"I've been meaning to ask about your brother." Ichigo hesitated briefly then continued. "What exactly did you mean when you said your father almost killed him?"

Ichigo felt Orihime stiffen in his arms. She lifted her chin and warily met his questioning gaze. "It's kind of a long story."

Ichigo frowned; he was aware she was trying to deflect the question. "I've got time."

Orihime took a deep breath to brace herself; it would be the first time she spoke about the incident. She used to be too afraid to confess to anyone about it, even Rangiku. But suddenly she felt like she had to. And at the same time, it almost felt like she was lifting some giant weight off her tired heart.

"I told you that Sora-nii was my half-brother. Okaa-san had him while working as a hostess in Japan. She met Otou-san one evening when he showed up to the club and he took a liking to her. Very soon they got married and had me."

Orihime's nose scrunched up as she contemplated her memories. "I don't remember much of Japan. I stayed there until I was three and then we moved here for Otou-san's company. But if I think hard enough, I can remember a park filled with sakura trees.

"When we moved here I got picked on a lot. Onii-chan would take care of me though. He was gentle and would braid my hair for me before I went to bed. And I loved spending summer time with him because he could catch a dragonfly just by sticking out his finger." Orihime laughed a little at the thought. The sound of it reminded Ichigo of bells on a windy day. When she simmered down, sadness fell over her expression. "Okaa-san was never fond of me. I think it was because she and Otou-san fought a lot and I was a reminder of her marriage. He—He would hit her sometimes and that would make Onii-chan angry.

She shook her head, feigning tears. "Otou-san was going out with other women and Onii-chan found out. When he turned eighteen, he decided to have us return to Japan—without Otou-san. The night after my tenth birthday, Onii-chan drove us to the airport. But when we got off the car, Otou-san's men were waiting for us—"

Orihime's voice began trembling, she was uncertain if she could keep going but she pushed through. "They—They grabbed Onii-chan and started hitting him. There were so many of them and they wouldn't stop. Onii-chan was lying on the floor bleeding and they kept kicking him—"

The images that swarmed into Orihime's mind were too much. She had returned to that day and was forced to relive the beating her brother was given. Echoing in Orihime's ears were her and her mother's screams of horror.

Ichigo tightened his grip around Orihime's shaking shoulders and brought her to his chest. He kept quiet as he rubbed her forearm while she buried her face in his shirt trying to collect herself.

"T-That was the last time I saw Onii-chan," whispered Orihime. "The men threw me and Okaa-san into another car and took us back to Otou-san."

A long silence followed that faltered with Orihime's occasional sniffle.

Through clenched teeth, Ichigo spoke. "So Iwao had Sora beaten to death?"

Orihime shook her head. "Onii-chan was sent back to Japan. A few months later he died in a car accident."

Ichigo caught the doubt laced into Orihime's tone. He lifted her face up. "But you don't think it was an accident?"

Orihime licked her lips and averted her gaze. "Not when Otou-san got a check from the life insurance company for four million yen."

**:**

Sitting across the dinner table from Hisagi was Orihime. In the dim lighting of the lavish restaurant she appeared radiant. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, cascading down in intricately sculpted waves. Her strapless emerald dress was complimenting on her, it made the exposed skin luscious; Hisagi had to resist licking her bare neck when he hugged her in greeting.

In fascination, Hisagi discreetly watched how Orihime brought her glass of wine to her full mouth. Her eyes were cast downward at her plate of food as she used her free hand to pick at her meal with a fork. When Orihime finished with her sip, she ran her tongue over her lips.

Feeling the physical sensation of Hisagi's eyes crawling over her, Orihime peeked up at him. He smirked when their gazes made contact. "You're a very tantalizing woman, Orihime."

The fork in her hand slipped and clattered against the fine dishware. Abashed, Orihime looked at anywhere but Hisagi. "I-If that's the case," she sputtered, "it's not intentionally."

"I know," replied Hisagi. "That's what I like about you."

Orihime forced a smile at the compliment and then resumed pushing her food side to side. Her mind kept straying from the present, thinking of the morning she spent with Ichigo eating French toast and scrambled eggs.

He had laughed at her when the powdered sugar fell on her and then took it upon himself to lick it off. At that moment, she had become his meal.

Orihime resisted sighing longingly. Ichigo was at home waiting for her return. Hisagi had been persuasive into getting Rangiku's permission to take Orihime without her bodyguard. Ichigo had objected but was unsuccessful at swaying Rangiku's decision.

"Orihime."

The said girl jerked at her name and squeaked. "Y-Yes, Hisagi?"

Hisagi reached over and placed his hand over Orihime's. "I don't like playing games. The women I've encountered have always been fickle and brazen. Each only wanting one thing from me." He held onto limp fingers, brushing his thumb over delicate but deceiving knuckles. "But I can tell you're different."

Despite her best efforts, Orihime couldn't tear away her attention from Hisagi. It was like he was pulling her in slowly, coaxing her to lean forward. The air suddenly felt thick and it was laboring to breathe evenly.

The corner of his mouth turned up regretfully. "You don't want to be with me, do you?"

Orihime stilled, her airway shutting off. Her brain wasn't in time with her tongue, leaving her rosy lips to move soundlessly. This wasn't what she had anticipated; it was something she didn't see coming. A small part of her worried over how mad her father would be when he found out she ruined her chances with Hisagi but a larger part, the parts she willingly gave to Ichigo, didn't care in the slightest.

"But I understand your situation," continued Hisagi. "I'm fully aware of your father's intentions regarding our relationship—"

"H-Hisagi—"

"—and I'm fine with it."

Orihime's smokey eyes filled her face. Not quite sure she heard him correctly, she whispered, "You're _fine_ with it?"

Hisagi nodded once. "Iwao wants you to marry money, correct? I can offer you that. If you let me, I can take you away from here and get anything your little heart desires. All you have to do is agree to change your last name to mine."

"W-Wait," stammered Orihime, her heart in danger of escaping from her constricting chest. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I want you," said Hisagi, affectionately squeezing her hand. "I know you don't feel that way for me but I could get you fall in love if you gave me time. Only that's something you don't have, do you?"

Orihime was left to gape at Hisagi. What he was offering was the perfect solution she had been waiting for ever since she was thrown into the world of rich men. Not only would it please Iwao, she could finally escape.

Orihime pulled her hand back.

If only Hisagi had appeared before _he_ came into her life and changed everything. Had he came sooner, Orihime would've of agreed in a heartbeat.

Closing her eyes and seeing scorching amber ones, Orihime shook her head. "I'm sorry, Hisagi," she breathed. _"I_ _can't."_

Here was Hisagi offering her the world.

But she had her own.

"I see," murmured Hisagi, leaning back in his chair. "That's a damn shame."

Swallowing what felt like a shard of glass, Orihime glanced at Hisagi. She felt tears prickling the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. "I would've said yes if we had met sooner."

"I know." Hisagi grabbed his glass of wine and finished the remains in a matter of seconds. "You've already given your heart away."

Steeling herself, Orihime bottled up her tears for another time. She did not regret the decision but she did feel a years worth of waiting for the chance to flee from her father turn into a pile of disappointment. "Yes . . ."

Hisagi gave Orihime one last look of yearning. "I can only hope he's given you his."

**:**

Orihime didn't bother going into the large building she called home. It was empty as always, Rangiku had left to stay with Gin as usual and the help were done for the day. Being alone had gotten tiring and Orihime needed a break.

High heels hanging lifelessly in her small hands, Orihime silently took the set of stairs that led to Ichigo's bedroom. Without hesitating, she let herself in.

He was lying on his bed, a bottle of scotch on the nightstand and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His hair was mess, most likely do from that habit of his to run his hand through it whenever he was anxious or frustrated.

Intense ocher collided with sweltering gray.

Without breaking the connection, Orihime slowly unzipped her dress. Her pulse was racing and she felt someone dizzy but she didn't dare stop. It was too late for that. In one fluid motion, a pool of emerald fabric formed at Orihime's feet.

Wearing nothing but her undergarments, Orihime made the first move and slipped into Ichigo's bed. Their lips instantly met in kiss that both took their breath away and returned it. A disfigured hand that snapped necks and wielded weapons, traveled tenderly over crème skin and settled itself on her hip.

Desperate for the taste only Orihime's body allowed, Ichigo eradicated the distance that separated them; they were pressed together to the point one wasn't sure were she started and he ended.

Feeding Ichigo's desire, Orihime whimpered into his mouth. Her heaving breasts pressed against his chest, spilling over from her favorite bra. Wanting more, Orihime let her palms slip under and trace the muscles of his lower abdominals.

Her touch sent a ripple throughout Ichigo who responded by nipping her tongue and then massaging it. The sensations she brought on reached _everywhere, _they touched the layers beneath his skin and pulled at his heartstrings. A fire swelled into his veins and hardened his stirring erection.

Whatever self control Ichigo had left evaporated.

Orihime gasped as Ichigo pinned her underneath him, his tongue tasting the expanse of her neck. He bit and sucked soft skin, certain that he'd left several love bites. A growl vibrated from Ichigo's throat as Orihime arched into him, meeting his straining groin.

The contact was delicious and Ichigo faltered, dropping his head into her shoulder. "Fuck . . . ."

Orihime's feather light fingertips touched Ichigo's cheek and when he looked up, wide eyes swimming innocence and lust urged him on. The shirt he wore was off the next second and immediately, Orihime was raking her hands all over him.

Ichigo busied himself with grazing his teeth over her collarbone. He tasted it and then trailed between her breasts. Kissing the naked curve of one, Ichigo unclasped the lacey article of clothing and pushed it aside.

Orihime tossed her head back feeling Ichigo take a hardened nipple into his mouth. _"Oh—!"_

Grinding into Orihime's core, Ichigo tugged on the nipple and rolled it on his tongue. Fingers threaded into his hair as he moved to the other breast, offering it the same adoration.

Orihime writhed uncontrollably, the heels of her feet digging into the bed sheets. There was such a desperate need inside her that she began meeting Ichigo's hips with her own, creating more friction as the dampness pooling between her thighs intensified.

"I-Ichigo, _please."_

Eyes flashing dark, Ichigo moved himself lower and slid off Orihime's wet panties in a single movement. Before she could react, Ichigo draped her legs over his shoulders and dragged his tongue along damp folds of her entrance.

Lost in bliss, Orihime moaned and gripped the blankets. "_Ah!"_

Nose filled with Orihime's scent, Ichigo's took his time tasting her. Addicted, he fastened his lips on her swollen clit and felt her buckle. After swirling his tongue around the pink bundle of nerves, Ichigo thrust his tongue inside her.

She was so wet and it only got worse as he continued.

Orihime was panting. She thrashed her head side to side, unable to keep still. Abandoning all restraints, she pushed herself further into Ichigo's mouth. "Oh, God," she breathed. "D-Don't stop—!"

Ichigo smirked as Orihime's thighs trembled violently then went rigid. She pulled at his hair as a strangled gasp slipped past her lips as orgasm overcame her. Ichigo didn't waste time and drew it out, lapping the juices that spilled over from her womanhood.

Sensing Orihime's body slacken, Ichigo pulled back to find her chest heaving and eyes glazed over in state of carnal pleasure. The simple sight of her caused Ichigo to groan; eating her out and listening to the coy sounds she made left his erection _painful._

Orihime blushed a deep shade of red when she realized Ichigo's chin was covered in her essence. However, she was unable to say anything when he slanted his mouth of hers and suckled her tongue, giving her a taste of what he so eagerly licked moments ago.

"Ichigo . . ." whimpered Orihime against his demanding kisses. "Let me touch you."

So he did.

Nervously, Orihime unbuckled Ichigo's belt. He yanked everything off and intently watched her as she laid eyes on him for the first time. Catching her shock, he fisted his hand in her hair and muttered thickly, "You don't have to, Hime."

Orihime cupped Ichigo's face and kissed his hard, her heart splitting open for him. His voice was rough but when he had said her name, it was _soft._ Then, using all her strength, Orihime pushed him back to sit upright.

Ichigo hissed as Orihime traced the countless scars covering his body with her tongue. He had been ashamed of them, guilty of the stories behind them but Orihime treated them with such love it hurt.

Focused on showing how much Ichigo meant to her, Orihime covered his chest and stomach with sweet, damp kisses that sent a shock down his back. Without warning, she grabbed his manhood and gave it a tentative lick.

Ichigo groaned. _"Oh, shit."_

Feeling a bit more confident, Orihime took his length and stroked it. In return, Ichigo cursed through clenched teeth and strained his neck. "Harder," he grunted. "Hold me _tighter_."

Obliging, Orihime squeezed his hard shaft and it pulsed in her hand. Curiosity getting the better of her, Orihime dropped her head and enveloped the moist tip of Ichigo's erection within her mouth.

She wrapped her tongue around the tip, tasting a sensual tang. Her eyes drooped shut and she hummed as she sucked him. Slowly, she took more of Ichigo's length and when she swallowed, he cursed.

Ichigo watched in amazement at how fervently she pleased him. "God damn, Hime."

He was close. If she kept going, he'd come apart in her mouth.

Puzzled, Orihime blinked as Ichigo stopped her. Smirking, he pushed the hair back from her pink face. "I don't want this to end yet."

Orihime's back fell onto the mattress. Her squeak of surprised was cut off by Ichigo's lips that bruised hers. A flurry of emotions rushed over Orihime as Ichigo aligned himself at her entrance.

Ichigo pulled back from the kiss, his half-lidded eyes warmly moving over her face. He took in every detail: her hair fanned out behind her, the blush that was different than any other shade she'd shown, her swollen red lips, the way she panted helplessly.

Her painfully beautiful gaze.

Ichigo grabbed her hand and tightly tied there fingers together. "Wrap you legs around me."

Once she did, Ichigo gently pushed into her. Orihime's spine bowed at the sensation, experiencing a short pain. Slowly, Ichigo filled and stretched her; he swallowed Orihime's cries while she took his. "Mine," he whispered.

"Yours," she breathed.

Tight. She was so tight around him.

Orihime's heat hugged him as he moved deliberately. Ichigo worked his way back out and then thrust back in, causing Orihime to moan his name. Each time, she coated him thickly, driving Ichigo mad. "F-Fuck!"

Head lolling back, Orihime gave into Ichigo. As his rhythm picked up, she clawed at his back, digging her nails into his heated skin. Over and over again, she whimpered his name and begged for more.

It was nothing like she ever felt. He _filled_ that chasm between her legs, pushing her over the edge. Orihime needed him so she desperately clung onto Ichigo, meeting his strong thrusts.

Quickening his pace, Ichigo stared down at Orihime. Her lips were parted while she moaned carelessly. Ichigo leaned in and took her mouth, biting and sucking her lower lip. Orihime moved a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him closer, not getting enough of him.

Ichigo wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her up, giving him a better angle. He plunged deeper, his movements turning erratic. Shuddering, Ichigo panted in Orihime's ear. "You're so _fucking_ beautiful."

And she felt _beautiful._

Kissing him softly, Orihime murmured what she had been holding in her heart, "I love you, Ichigo."

Groaning, Ichigo gripped her hand firmly. He felt her words hit him right on the chest, ripping him apart and putting him back together. Only she could get him to say the words he thought he never utter. "I love you, Hime," he said huskily. "I fucking do."

Their bodies went into a frenzy, nearing the peak. Ichigo's fingers dug into her hip as she tightened around him and triggered his orgasm. Gasping her name, Ichigo came undone.

Pushing into him, Orihime followed. The ball of nerves in her lower stomach exploded in a series bursts. _"Ichigo—!"_

It was sweeter than heaven and hotter than hell.

Drawing it out as long as possible, Ichigo kept jerking his hips until they collapsed. Breathing raggedly, he slumped on top of Orihime and laid his head over her chest; he kissed the skin directly above her thundering heart.

Pressing her lips against Ichigo's forehead, she wished him goodnight.

Humming a lullaby Sora used to sing to her, Orihime ran her hand through his bright hair. It was a strange thing for Orihime; the man in her arms was the strongest person she knew, yet in her presence and in the aftermath of their love, he was at his most vulnerable.


	9. salvation in the form of a girl

**notes: **Alright, first off I'd like to thank everybody who reviewed. Seriously, you don't know how much that means to me. I'm glad to hear that you all enjoyed that last chapter because believe me when I say it took a ton of revisions before I finished it.

So yeah, things are finally going to get set in motion. I guess you can say this it the "calm before the storm." Don't be fooled by the romance, although it is key, it's not the only main part in this story.

Anyways, please make sure to leave your feedback. I love hearing from you guys and reading your opinions, thoughts and predictions.

The song used here is the piano rendition of Utada Hikaru's First Love in case you were wondering. Also, how do you guys like the new cover art? Oh, and if you're looking for something new to read, try the enchantress by oh my fading heart.

And dear God, if any of you blog you'd know about the stupid fanwars that go on there. It is so silly and pointless. This is why I love the IchiHime fandom; they're all so kind and tolerant. So yeah, I love you guys c:

And here's my gift for you!

**rating: **M

Er, yeah this rating change will probably be permanent.

**disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_salvation in the form of a girl_

**:**

Swimming in a deep sea of pale blue sheets were Ichigo and Orihime. Like magnets, their bodies were firmly pressed against each other. They were both on their sides, wrapped in one another in the most intricate ways. Smooth legs rubbed along coarse ones while soft breasts brushed against a hard chest.

Within the room filled with early morning shadows, two hearts beat together.

Orihime unconsciously shifted from her curled up position and nuzzled into the crook of Ichigo's neck, causing him to lazily stir awake. A shudder ripped through Ichigo as Orihime's sticky breath fanned over his skin.

Ichigo blinked several times before he realized he wasn't dreaming; last night had really happened. The sleeping girl in his arms was real.

Only, none of it made sense. Something as lovely as her couldn't belong to him. He was too broken and too dark for someone as divine as she.

But Orihime did belong to him. She was his the same way he was hers. They had promised that and much more in events of the night prior.

The arm Ichigo had draped over Orihime's slim waist slid onto the fine bow of her spine. Languidly, he trailed long fingers over the contour of it, counting each vertebrae. Intently gazing at Orihime, Ichigo committed to memory every little detail about her.

Like how sooty her lashes were or the way her lips parted while she slept deeply. He noticed the way she snored at every other intake of breath. He caught how she cuddled like a child and folded into him.

And her body was a wonderland. Built with slopes of porcelain skin and valleys of luscious curves, her figure pleased and teased Ichigo. He loved every bit of Orihime.

Ichigo could only wonder how it was possible for someone so heartbreaking beautiful to exist. It wasn't fair to the long line of desperate men waiting for their chance at her. And what was even worse, Orihime was twice as breathtaking on the inside.

Either way, Ichigo couldn't resist her.

Perhaps God created Orihime just for him. Maybe, just maybe, He had given Ichigo salvation in the form of an auburn haired girl. A girl made up of hope, broken dreams and a thousand suns.

A girl who could break and mend a man's soul.

There was a loud exhale from Orihime. Her small nose twitched and then wide eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she simply stared at Ichigo as though she wasn't sure he truly existed but the she smiled shyly as color swarmed her face. "G-Good morning."

Ichigo grinned, stopping Orihime's heart with the happiness filled in it. For once, the lines of his face melted and revealed a handsome young man. He had given her a glimpse into the past when he was nothing but a boy who smiled without a care.

Stealing a kiss from her sweet lips, Ichigo muttered, "Morning."

The brush of his lips was brief and left Orihime yearning for more. A delicious tingle worked its way down to her curling toes. Her dreamy eyes were twinkling with wishful stars as she admired the strong structure of Ichigo's face.

Still smiling, Ichigo moved his hand from her back to the nape of her neck. His eyes were the softest shades of brown as he placed his forehead against hers. "Is your body okay?"

Blushing, Orihime stretched like a baby kitten. For the most part she was a bit sore but it wasn't painful. "I'm fine," she chirped.

Somewhat skeptical, Ichigo gave her a quick perusal. The beginning day's sunlight filtered through the window and revealed the constellations of kiss marks adorning Orihime's chest and neck. Mouth tugging downward and brows knitted together, Ichigo delicately skimmed over each one with his index finger.

"Sorry," he muttered, examining a particularly large bruise on her breast. "I got carried away."

Heart skipping a beat, Orihime murmured, "It's okay."

Ichigo paused to stare at her and then he smirked boyishly. "You know, you were very beautiful last night."

Mortified, Orihime blushed. "K-Kurosaki-kun—!"

He frowned disapprovingly at her. "I thought you broke that habit. My name's _Ichigo."_

"I'm sorry," she squeaked.

Raising a brow, Ichigo said, "You didn't have a problem saying it last night."

Orihime opened her mouth to say something but the words drifted into a dark abyss as Ichigo abruptly dropped his head and brushed his lips over the bruises on her breasts. Slowly, he made his way up to the ones on her neck, sealing each offered kiss with a long lick from his tongue.

Despite them being bite marks, Ichigo felt some satisfaction in seeing them scattered over her soft skin. They were physical proofs that he had taken her for his own. Even though Orihime was better than he deserved, Ichigo wanted to corrupt her to make sure she was as attached to him as he was to her.

Arching in carnal pleasure, Orihime gasped loudly. An uncontrollable craving had ignited, fully awakening every part of her, every cell of her being. She _needed_ to get closer to Ichigo.

Her desire immersed itself into Ichigo's hot running veins, sending ripples of emotion throughout his body. Intoxicated by the overflowing sensations, Ichigo nipped at Orihime's jaw line. When he couldn't hold back anymore, he crashed their lips together. Ichigo stiffened for a moment as Orihime breathed life into him and in a moment, he was lost inside her enticing world.

Enwrapped in Orihime, Ichigo twisted his fingers in her mane of hair. He was incredibly fond of it, fond of the color, the texture, the meaning. For her brother, each inch represented her love and loyalty to him.

But to Ichigo, it meant more.

Because she was a gift. And although Ichigo detested God, he was grateful that fate had them meet each other. Even if the world was destined to burn into ashes, Ichigo thanked fate for binding him to Orihime.

So Ichigo broke from the ravaging kiss and brought the tips of her hair, the red thread of fate_,_ to his lips. He could smell Orihime's lavender scented perfume. "Orihime," he breathed huskily. "You're my reason."

Her gentle hands cupped his face and while she gazed at him intently it dawned on her how frightening all this was for Ichigo. Smiling softly, Orihime wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

Circling his arms around her, Ichigo hauled Orihime up. He sat up straight while she straddled him. He slanted his mouth over hers, entangling their tongues. The kiss grew deep as the air around them intensified.

Ichigo nibbled on Orihime's bottom lip, causing her to whimper. Desperate, he pulled her as close as he could, urging her to roll her hips into his. When their cores met, Ichigo hissed.

Eyes hazy, Orihime rubbed herself along his erection. The friction excited her center and the wetness trickled down her crème thighs. Clinging onto Ichigo, she implored, _"Please, Ichigo."_

Devouring Orihime's swollen, red lips, Ichigo positioned himself at her damp entrance. Holding onto her hip, Ichigo claimed her, jerking into her. He listened to her moan in the back of her throat. _"Fuck,"_ he grunted.

Her body accommodated itself for Ichigo, the walls of her womanhood squeezing his girth. Ichigo clenched his teeth, a predatory glint in his eyes as he watched her writhe. Full breasts heaved in time with Orihime ragged breathing, her heavy lashes lowering.

"I-Ichigo . . . ." she panted softly, her grip on him tightening.

Hearing her call his name breathlessly like that, Ichigo lost control and gave Orihime another forceful kiss, driving himself deeper. She met his firm thrust, nearly burying him to the hilt, coating his length thickly. "Damn," he groaned. Loving her was chaotic battle between that wild side of him and the part of him that wanted to treat her with the utmost reverence.

A sharp gasp fell off Orihime's tongue as Ichigo increased the pace. Biting hard on her lip, she feverishly rocked her hips against his. The feeling was otherworldly, reaching every part of her.

Groaning profusely in her ear, Ichigo relished Orihime's silky wetness. He lowered his hold onto her full thighs and dug in his fingers, kneading the flesh. Perspiration dripped down his neck but was soon wiped clean by Orihime's tongue. She then proceeded to pepper his damp skin with kisses and trace the lines of his chest.

As Ichigo pounded erratically into her, Orihime felt her body coil around him. A strong shiver racked through her, consuming her. She splayed her legs wider and grinded into Ichigo's pulsing shaft.

The sky's fading morning stars twinkled curiously as Orihime tossed her back and cried out. She shattered into pieces and then rebuilt herself while her eyes turned bright. Too swept by the waves of her orgasm, Orihime allowed Ichigo feast hungrily on her mouth.

Orihime's inner muscles clenched his length, coaxing Ichigo into losing himself. His thrusts turned irregular while he vigorously sucked Orihime's tongue. Her wet folds convulsed and triggered his orgasm. But he did not slow down; Ichigo growled and carried on until he was nearly spent.

Ichigo's cradling hand behind Orihime's head softened the fall as he pushed her down onto the mattress. He moved the sweaty hair sticking to her face aside while he hovered above. Then Ichigo began moving inside her, his thrusts still demanding. "Again, Hime," he panted through gritted teeth. "One more time."

Orihime brought the knuckles of her hand to her mouth and nodded. Lifting her hips, she wrapped her legs around Ichigo's waist and locked her ankles. "O-Okay . . . ."

Completely mesmerized, Ichigo took in Orihime's expression that was mixed dangerously with innocence and lewdness. Her body glistened in a sheen of sweat while her plump lips whimpered his name in a mantra. _Ichigo. Ichigo. Ichigo._

Groaning, Ichigo kissed her and swallowed his name.

Orihime's bad habit had finally broken.

**:**

With heavy lidded eyes, Ichigo stared out his window and watched the sky shift from faded gray to a soft violet until it finally settled on blue. For once in his life, he felt relaxed. Much of if had to do with the girl resting her head on his chest.

Orihime wanted to capture the moment and stretch it on forever. Somehow, she had managed to steal fleeting flashes of bliss. And as the sun rose, she dreaded facing whatever obstacle was heading her way.

Ichigo paused from idly running his fingers through her hair when heard her coy voice.

"Something bad is going to happen."

Frowning, Ichigo craned his neck and tilted her chin up to get a good look at her. Her eyes were swimming in emotions: joy, fear, determination, and love. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged limply. "That's how it works. If I have something as good as you in my life, I'm going to have to pay for it."

"That's ridiculous."

But even Ichigo knew Orihime was right. Everything came with a price and someone as lovely as her would cost a fortune. However, it was hardly relevant to him anymore; he'd have her no matter what.

Sensing that she didn't believe him, Ichigo pinched her nose. "And even if that is the case, you've suffered enough to earn a little happiness. Maybe you'll finally get a break."

Ichigo hoped that was true for the both of them.

Reassured by him, Orihime smiled tenderly and then nodded.

Ichigo folded an arm behind his neck and leaned back. He exhaled deeply, trying to commit to memory how her soft body felt against his. "What did Hisagi tell you?"

Orihime pulled back and closely examined Ichigo's upper arm. There in black ink was a strangely shaped tattoo. It was a Japanese manji, representing strength and courage. Outlining the design of the four prongs bent out she said softly, "He offered to marry me."

For a second, Ichigo kept silent and merely watched her. "And you told him no."

Orihime said nothing. It was a statement, not a question she needed to answer. Besides, there was nothing for her to explain. By completely giving herself over to Ichigo she had made her decision clear.

"I'll marry you."

The quite declaration swayed Orihime. Breath catching in her throat, she went rigid and slowly turned to stare at Ichigo with wide eyes.

His gaze was set in unwavering determination. Swallowing, he said, "Let's get married."

Orihime's heart broke into a sprint and was soon on the verge of breaking free from her chest. "Y-You mean it—?"

"Yeah," said Ichigo hoarsely, straightening himself. "If you marry me, I'll take care of you. I'll keep you safe and I'll never hurt you. I'll take you away from here and we'll go anywhere you want. All you have to do is name the place."

Her vision was blurred by an abrupt onslaught of sparkling tears. Frantically, Orihime searched for her voice and when she couldn't find it fast enough, she nodded fervently. Drying her eyes, Orihime breathed, _"I'll marry you."_

While Ichigo's lips moved gently over Orihime's, she could feel his smile of triumph growing. "D-Does this mean I'm going to be Kurosaki-chan . . .?"

Grinning widely, Ichigo muttered proudly, "That's exactly what it means."

**:**

Brows puckered together, Tatsuki keenly observed Orihime. They were walking together through the hallways, done with the school day. And as they did, Tatsuki noticed several people pause to glance at starry eyed Orihime. There was something _different_ about the soft-spoken girl, like she had changed from the inside.

Now when Orihime moved, there was grace to it. A quite confidence that hadn't been there before.

Unable to restrain herself, Tatsuki blurted out, "Did something happen, Orihime?"

Orihime flinched and nearly tripped over her feet. Fighting back a blush, she stuttered, "W-What do you mean?"

Tatsuki chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "I don't know how to explain it but I have this feeling that something happened to you recently."

Orihime tilted her head to the side and smiled kindly. "You shouldn't worry, Tatsuki. You'll get gray hairs."

Tatsuki cocked a brow. "Did something happen?"

They had stepped out of the school building and were heading towards the indoor gym. Orihime leaned into the cool November air, letting it awaken her senses. She spotted a head of orange hair leaning against the building.

A breeze shook Orihime's long hair and Tatsuki's eyes widened.

Wistfully, Orihime confessed. "I'm in love."

Tatsuki's attention darted anxiously from Orihime's scary looking body guard and the kiss marks covering her friend's pale neck. "With _him_?"

"Yes."

Blinking rapidly, Tatsuki stared dubiously. Never would she have imagined Orihime admitting to it so easily, she had anticipated Orihime diligently denying the accusation. "But Orihime he's—"

"—kind and strong," finished Orihime, giving Tatsuki a knowing smile. "He's really nice, Tatsuki."

Tatsuki glanced at the tall, scowling man. Never would she have imagined Orihime with such a rough person, she was much too gentle. But then, Orihime had to have been telling the truth for that very reason. "If you say so."

Orihime hugged Tatsuki before scampering off towards Ichigo. Still somewhat unconvinced, Tatsuki watched from afar as her friend greeted Ichigo warmly. To her surprise, the man's hard expression withered away as Orihime began speaking animatedly to him. Then he took her hand and carefully helped her into the passenger seat.

Tatsuki adjusted the strap of her duffle bag. "I guess she was right."

**:**

"I was just informed your father is arriving tonight."

Orihime looked out the car window, unable to decipher the rush of unknown faces of the pedestrians. Her hand unconsciously crawled up her neck and touched the bites and bruises there. She had strategically kept her hair down and all day she had been applying some of the expensive make up Rangiku had bought her in hopes of concealing them. It was only during swim practice that Orihime was unable to hide them which resulted in a number of sneers from the other swimmers.

"Does he know about Hisagi?" she asked.

Ichigo peered at Orihime, catching her unsettled expression. "I'm not sure."

Sighing, Orihime fingered the hem of her small skirt, smoothing out a persistent wrinkle. She didn't think Hisagi would have told her father anything, he was not a spiteful person. Regardless, part of her still worried.

"If you keep playing with your skirt, I'll rip it off."

Orihime stiffened, her back going erect while a rush of blood swarmed her face. "I-Ichigo!"

He kept his eyes on the road but Orihime could have sworn she saw the corning of his mouth edge upward. This teasing side of Ichigo enthralled Orihime and each time she discovered another layer of him, she fell deeper in love. And she was happy that it was only with her that Ichigo showed this side.

Ichigo trusted her.

Orihime leaned back in her seat, facing him. "My swim meet is tomorrow."

"I know."

Her voice dropped. "I'm really nervous."

"You shouldn't be," said Ichigo, frowning as a silver Corolla followed them around the corner. "You've been practicing and improving. I think you have a good shot at winning."

"I suppose," mumbled Orihime, reaching over to change the radio station. "But I've never placed higher than third."

Ichigo switched lanes, swerving though traffic but the Corolla did the same while keeping its distance. "You need to change that mentality," he said, scowling at the rearview mirror. "You can't win when you think you've already lost."

Noticing Ichigo's distraction, Orihime glanced at the side mirror of the car. A spring of panic began bubbling inside her at the sight of the vehicle. She read the license plate quickly and nearly gasped. "That's the same one from last time. The one that followed me to school."

Ichigo's jaw locked. "Hold on," he muttered darkly, taking an on-ramp and merging onto the overcrowded freeway. His attention kept flickering to behind him, waiting for the other car to show up.

To their relief, the Corolla failed to reappear. Orihime let out the breath she had been holding. "That scared me."

Something didn't feel right to Ichigo. His instincts were screaming, trying to figure out the best response to the situation. Whoever had tailed them knew where him and Orihime were coming from. They had even realized that Ichigo was taking a different route and failed to follow him.

Sensing Ichigo's discomfort, Orihime dug through her satchel and retrieved her moleskin notebook. Flipping to one of the more recent pages, she told Ichigo, "Last time I wrote down the license number. I have it in here."

Even though Ichigo knew there were no longer being followed, he checked the mirror one last time. He then looked back to Orihime, a bit amazed. "You'll have to show me that when we get home."

**:**

Arriving at the house, Orihime smiled at Ichigo and guided him into the parlor where the grand piano rested. "I want to play for you."

They sat at the piano bench beside one another as she prepared herself. Transfixed, Ichigo quietly observed as Orihime took a soothing breath and closed her eyes. Her long hair was pushed behind her while her gentle hands hovered above the keys.

When her long lashes lifted, her gray eyes had glazed over in such a way that Ichigo was reminded of their morning together. They were dark, lost in a void of Orihime's dream world.

Then her fingers touched the keys. At first, they moved lightly and languidly as she began the song. The melody that Orihime created was sweet and soft on the ears. And as the song progressed, gaining momentum and building up, Orihime swayed in time with the music.

Passionate.

That was the only way to describe it. It was almost as if Orihime had lost herself while she played. The way she played was more than just technically sound; Orihime had nearly over a decade of experience under her belt. And she enjoyed playing the piano, she found pleasure in it.

Playing came easy to her. Her hands moved with poise and assertiveness but there was also something provocative in the manner they danced over the keys.

There was so much going on with Orihime and the song that Ichigo flickered his gaze from her nimble fingers to her shifting facial expressions.

Her emotions became something Ichigo could hear. Entering the heart of the song, Orihime fingers glided expertly over keys; she didn't hesitate, she went straight into it. The tempo increased and so did Orihime's enthusiasm.

Coming done from cloud nine, Orihime came to the end of the song. When the final note ended, she smiled brightly at Ichigo. "I've worked on that since the day I met you. It's your song."

Ichigo grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "It was beautiful, Orihime."

Holding still, Orihime anticipated Ichigo who was leaning in. But right before she could taste his lips, the sound of cars arriving startled them. And in an instant, Orihime snapped out of her reverie. "H-He's here."

They headed outside into the early evening. As a Mercedes pulled in, another car was ahead of it as a precaution. The driver opened the door for Iwao and immediately began pulling out the luggage from the trunk.

Orihime bowed. "Welcome home, Otou-san."

Iwao nodded briskly and then fixed Ichigo with a look. It was calculating, taking in Ichigo's entire demeanor. Whatever Iwao saw, he did not let it show on his face. "I take it my daughter has been well, Kurosaki?"

"Of course."

Iwao said nothing and then scrutinized his fidgeting daughter. Her eyes were nervously flittering around, never staying on one spot for too long. It was trait she had inherited from Jun and Iwao knew right away she was withholding secrets. "Is there something wrong, Orihime?"

Keeping her gaze on the ground, she said, "No, not at all."

Iwao's eyes narrowed as they settled somewhere beneath Orihime's chin. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Iwao looked like he wanted to say more but he held his tongue. Purposely, he strode over and placed a hand on Orihime's shoulder, guiding her inside. "Come. Let's enjoy a nice family dinner."

**:**

While Orihime slept soundly upstairs, Iwao poured a late arriving Rangiku and Gin drinks. Unsmiling, Iwao took a hearty sip from his glass. "He has to go, Rangiku."

The vivacious blonde woman faltered. "What? Who?"

"Kurosaki," clarified Iwao.

"Why?" asked Rangiku, exchanging a glance with Gin. "You were so pleased with him."

"Orihime likes him too much," explained Iwao, refilling his glass. "They're seeing each other."

Rangiku's alcohol induced blush worsened. "That's absurd."

"It's not," said Iwao, sending Rangiku a sharp glance indicating that he was not fooled by her fake disbelief. "You should have seen them during dinner. He could barely keep his hands off of her."

"But that's not her fault," defended Rangiku, hoping somehow to save her niece from Iwao's anger.

Iwao cocked a brow while he offered Gin another glass. "So those hickeys on her neck simply appeared?"

Rangiku's lips parted. "H-Hickeys?"

Iwao stood up, setting aside his drink. Slipping on his jacket he stated firmly, "He has to go, Rangiku."

At a complete loss, Rangiku looked over to Gin for help. He grimly shook his head at her. "But what about Orihime? It'll be a hard break on her."

Strolling past her and heading to the front door, Iwao waved an airy hand. "She's young. She'll get over it."

**:**

Ichigo pushed play on his sound system and then took a seat by the open window. He grabbed his gun off the dresser and re-polished it. Then he ejected the shell from the breach and smoothly caught it on the back of his hand.

He held the pistol in his hands, ready to fire. After casting a contemplative glance at Orihime's dim lighted window, Ichigo aimed at Iwao's bedroom his finger curling around the trigger.


	10. for her sake

**notes: **Hey guise, sorry I've been missing. I actually caught a nasty case of the flu and on top of that I had to write a five page research paper for my Physics class. BLEGH... You try writing about Dark Matter without falling asleep. Anyways, I just watched the new Rurouni Kenshin Live Action movie and may I say, it was amazing. Like everything about it was perfect and I highly recommend you all go see it. And on top of that, One Ok Rock's song The Beginning has been on repeat while writing because it seemed to fit with the theme of this story. So yeah, you should go check it out.

Okay, enough of my mindless rambling. Here's the next chapter, so make sure to leave a review.

**rating: **M

**disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

* * *

**the reason**

* * *

_for her sake_

**:**

Still a bit drowsy, Orihime trudged downstairs and into the vacant kitchen. It was Tessai's day off which meant she would have to prepare her own breakfast. Stifling a yawn, she began rummaging through the pantry and refrigerator. Wondering on what to make that Ichigo would like, she failed to notice the figure approaching her from behind.

A sharp intake of breath slipped past Orihime's lips as she swirled around to face the stranger in her house. It was a woman covered in a small bathrobe with her black hair disarrayed. It was not the first time Orihime had encountered an unknown face; her father brought many women to spend the night.

But this woman was different. Her dark eyes narrowed at Orihime who was still dressed in her thin nightgown. "I knew it," she hissed viciously. "He's cheating on me."

Too puzzled, Orihime froze as the woman advanced on her and roughly grabbed her by the shoulders. "You whore. Stay away from Iwao—"

There was a definite click.

"Get your hands off her."

Orihime eyes widened at Ichigo who stood before them, gun drawn and pointed directly at the woman's head. There was darkness in his gaze that sent a shiver down her spine. However, Orihime could not think of it too much because she was immediately free from the woman's grasp.

"Orihime, come here," ordered Ichigo through clenched teeth.

Orihime obeyed, scurrying over to his side and then squeaking when Ichigo pushed her behind him. "Now," growled Ichigo, his pistol still raised. "Who the hell are you?"

The woman's face was a sheet of white dripping in a cold sweat. Her anxious eyes stayed on the sleek weapon, watching in complete fear. "L-Lan Fong—I-I'm Iwao's girlfriend."

A small hand fell upon Ichigo's gun and lowered it. "She thought I was another woman," explained Orihime, her tone empty. It lacked its usual vibrance and spirit. "She doesn't know Iwao's my father."

Lan gaped, turning to Orihime. "You're Iwao's daughter—?"

Ichigo's eyes turned into slits. "She attacked you, Hime."

Orihime shook her head, her hair wildly whipping side to side like a flickering flame. For a fleeting second, it distracted Ichigo with its color and shine as the sunlight from the nearby window set it on fire. "Please, Ichigo. I have my meet in a few hours and I just want to get away from here."

Obviously torn, Ichigo waited a few moments before reluctantly gave in. Back rigid, he grabbed Orihime's hand and dragged her along into the hallway, leaving behind a shocked Lan. Stoically, Ichigo lead her upstairs and into her bedroom.

Before Orihime could think, the door locked shut behind her and she was pressed up against it. Ichigo's lips moved urgently over hers, biting and sucking. His rough feeling hands cradled her face, giving him a better angle as he took more from Orihime. Pliantly, she gave into him, unable to resist the overflowing onslaight of sensations.

"The next time someone grabs you that way," he snarled, "I'm going to cut off each of their fingers."

Orihime gasped and Ichigo used the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. Hungrily, Ichigo feasted on her, tasting her breath and his name. His hands roamed over her sides and slipped down behind her thighs where he grabbed a hold of and hoisted her up. A groan of appreciation emitted from Ichigo as the front of his jeans touched Orihime's heated center.

One arm remained wrapped her exposed thighs, keeping her upright, while the other winded itself around her waist. Orihime yielded to Ichigo, clinging onto his shirt and kissing him with intense fever. Her small fingers reached for orange tendrils, gripping and tugging onto them. Her lips were left tingling as Ichigo broke the kiss and moved to her jawline, nipping and biting the flesh there.

Her voice coyly panted his name. "I-Ichi . . . go . . ."

His tongue traced the outline of her swollen lower lip. "Promise me you'll fight the next time something like that happens."

Orihime tried to speak but instead let out a moan as Ichigo slipped aside her underwear and buried a long finger inside her wet heat. Slowly, he curled the digit and she writhed helplessly. It was impossible to think straight when Ichigo had her like this. Her mind was a foggy mess, lost in the pleasure she was experiencing. Breathing rapidly, Orihime dropped her face into the crook of Ichigo's neck and slipped into a careless state.

Orihime was slick around Ichigo's finger. With a few strokes, her wetness trailed down Ichigo's hand. When he increased the pace, Orihime whimpered brokenly in his ear. Cursing, Ichigo added his middle finger and felt the walls of her sex squeeze. "Shit."

The friction drove Orihime mad and in desperation, she began grinding on Ichigo's hand. The small noises she made intensified as she neared her peak. The liquid warmth building in her lower stomach urged her on, frantic for release. A particularly sharp moan slipped past Orihime's damp lips when Ichigo pressed the pad of his thumb onto her clit. "Oh!"

"Shh," growled Ichigo, taking Orihime's mouth in a hard kiss. Although the help was gone, they were not alone and he refused risking getting caught. But he took his time, tenderly slanting his lips over hers and coaxing her tongue with his.

Orihime bit down on Ichigo's lip at the sudden crash of her orgasm. Raggedly, she moaned as he continued fingering her. Then her trembling legs stilled and clamped around Ichigo's hips. "Ichigo . . . ."

Breathing harshly, Ichigo took in Orihime's flushed expression. When she peered at him through thick lashes, the erection he had worsened. The area between her thighs pulsated and was drenched. Her entire body shuddered violently the moment Ichigo removed his fingers.

They kissed again, the act softer. Delicately, Ichigo moved his hands to her waist and cradled her to his rigid body. He seemed to be taking his time, as though he couldn't get enough of her. And in his case, it was true. Somehow, he was helplessly addicted to everything about her.

"Orihime," muttered Ichigo, his heated breath fanning over the expanse of her pink face. "Don't ever let anyone grab you like that again. Understood?"

She blinked twice, seeing the frustration and protective nature in his expression. His amber eyes were looking at her with such reverence that it took her by surprise. It was still strange for her to have someone love her unconditionally. Holding Ichigo tight, Orihime nodded. "I understand."

Sighing, Ichigo kissed her forehead. "Good."

**:**

Silently, Ichigo sat on the edge of the lavish bed and watched Orihime pack her duffle bag for the day's swimming meet. When she finished with that, she stripped her night gown and put on her swimsuit, no longer embarrassed. Then she threw on her warm up sweats and jacket. "I'm ready."

Ichigo didn't stand up, his attention was focused on the old bear settled upon a pile of plush pillows. A foreign look crossed his face as he reached for it and took the stuffed animal in his hands. "Do you always sleep with him?"

Orihime nodded. "Sora-nii gave him to me to keep away bad dreams."

Ichigo touched the nose of the bear. "Does he have a name?"

A blush grew on Orihime's face but she didn't let it stop her. "I call him Ichi Bear."

Carefully, Ichigo put the bear back in its place. Then he got onto his feet, casting Orihime an intense stare. It seemed like he wanted to say something but he remained quiet and offered her his hand to take. "Come on."

Orihime entangled her fingers with his and followed behind. Downstairs was empty with no signs of Lan or Iwao. Orihime didn't care much for their presence and preferred the idea of only Ichigo attending her competition. So without hesitation, she got into the Mercedes and drove to the private pool.

When they arrived, Ichigo noted the large amount of security for the event. As he escorted Orihime inside, Ichigo glanced around at the other bodyguards who each eyed him warily. A large marquee had been set up alongside the pool where numerous girls in swimsuits and their parents socialized. Surrounding the perimeter of the richly dressed and drinking adults was various security.

Orihime tugged the sleeve of Ichigo's shirt. "Stand near the finish line."

As she turned away to prepare herself, Ichigo called out to her. "Orihime."

She paused and curiously looked back at his with those large eyes of hers. "Yes?"

"The blocks," said Ichigo simply.

Orihime smiled knowingly. "I'm stuck until the gunshot sets me free."

Ichigo nodded with a slight grin. Then he watched Orihime trot over to the track where she greeted her fellow teammates. All serious, she bundled her thick hair together and slipped on her swim cap. There was a fierce determination set in her pretty gray eyes.

Once everyone settled down and the announcements were made, Orihime lined up at the blocks with the other swimmers. As the starter's pistol was pointed up towards the sky, Ichigo caught Orihime closing her eyes serenely and adjusting her goggles.

Then in an instant, the gun went off with an ominous _bang!_

Orihime surged forward, leaving everyone behind. And Ichigo saw it, she hadn't hit the water yet and he already knew she had won. Her body bent into a graceful arc and splashed into the water. Ten meters in, she finally broke the surface, her head sweeping left then right. Wherever her competitors were, it was somewhere far behind her.

Orihime focused on what was ahead of her. She kept her breathing in check and when she reached the turning wall, she dived into an underwater somersault. Her feet kicked off against the marble and then she was off once more.

When she resurfaced, the finish line seemed to come to her. With adrenaline pumping in her veins, Orihime pushed herself harder, cheered on by the excited crowd. And when she stretched her arm out to touch the winner's button, a smile broke across her face.

Ichigo watched proudly as Orihime broke from the water. She hauled herself out and ran in a beeline straight towards him. Squealing in delight, Orihime leapt into his waiting arms. "I won!" she exclaimed. "I won Ichigo!"

Smiling, he said, "Yeah. You did."

**:**

Setting on the deck of a downtown restaurant beside Orihime with a grin plastered on his face was Ichigo. Sitting with them in the late evening was Kisuke and his exotic looking wife, Yoruichi. In front of them were a half finished bottle of champagne and cleaned plates of food. The ambiance of the air around them was gleeful and for once, Orihime felt _happy._ Without any worries, she held onto Ichigo's hand.

Orihime turned to Ichigo. "I didn't know you two were friends."

"I'm the most important one," said Kisuke, tilting his hat backwards. "I met this pain in the ass guy when he was eighteen and we pledged to take on the world together."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, giving Orihime's hand an affectionate squeeze. "Then one day this bastard calls and says 'I'm in love and I'm moving to China.'"

Kisuke grinned boyishly under his mop of blonde hair. "The plan changed," he explained, looking adoringly at Yoruichi who teasingly blew a kiss his way.

Orihime giggled, fascinated in hearing the tales of Ichigo's past. It was almost the same as the day she had encountered Shinji. Ichigo seemed to be more relaxed around familiar company. Taking a deep breath, she announced, "Okay, I think now is a good time as any."

From her pocket, Orihime took out a velvet pouch and held it out to Ichigo. He looked at her with confusion and took it. His rough fingers fumbled with the delicate drawstring. Orihime awaited anxiously as Ichigo poured out the companion of Orihime's hair clips into his large hand. The other blue flower hung from a simple but fine silver chain.

"I thought you should have the other one," said Orihime softly. "One of a pair."

Ichigo stared at the gift in concealed awe. After considering it for a second, he took it and slipped it over his head. "Thank you, Hime. It's beautiful."

Pleased, Orihime smiled widely. "I'm glad you like it."

Sensing the intimacy between the two, Kisuke tugged Yoruichi up from her seat and led her toward the small platform where a band of musicians were beginning to play. "Come on. Let's go dance, Yoruichi. I feel like a third wheel here."

Once the married couple sauntered off, a finely dressed waiter appeared at the table and refilled Ichigo's glass of water. As he took a long sip, Orihime said quietly, "Can I ask you a question?"

Ichigo raised a brow and placed the beverage down. "Could I stop you?"

Orihime leaned against his shoulder, finding comfort in the strength there. "You don't drink like you used to."

Ichigo relished in the warm sensation Orihime emitted. It reminded him of sun rays on a summer days and touched the coldest parts of his battle worn body. "That's not a question."

Burying her face deeper into Ichigo's shirt, Orihime murmured, "I know because I go into your room and check the bottles."

Pulling her as close as possible, Ichigo pointed out dryly, "Still not a question."

"Okaa-san drank and so does Oba and Otou-san. . . ." Orihime's gaze wavered to where Kisuke and Yorichi danced playfully. It was evident that the man wasn't much of a dancer but Yoruichi's expertise compensated for the both of them. Many of the other customers were watching them in amazement. "Why do people drink, Ichigo?"

"Now that's a question," muttered Ichigo, keeping his arm draped over her. He took a second to come up with an appropriate answer. "I don't know about your family but for me, the problem isn't in the glass. The problem's in between my ears."

Orihime craned her neck and gazed thoughtfully at him. She didn't seem to realize that her eyes were glittering in hypnotic way that drove Ichigo mad. "You think too much?"

"Yeah," said Ichigo gruffly. "Because at one time, I didn't think enough."

Orihime's thin brows puckered. "What do you mean?"

An expression that couldn't be pinpointed flicked across Ichigo's face. A series of recollections flashed through his hand like old film: a short-lived childhood, military school, traveling to various countries, fighting and assassinations, his mother's blood on his hands . . . . All of it was too much to bear, too overwhelming for his mind to handle. That had been the real reason for his attachment to alcohol.

"I―" Ichigo's eyes tightened along with his grip on Orihime; she was the only precious thing that he had left and wasn't willing to let her stray too far from him. "I couldn't protect someone important."

From the tone of his voice, Orihime understood how grave the event was to Ichigo. Laced in was frustration, anger and sorrow. Somehow, it reminded her of the sound of her own voice during the few times she spoke to Rangiku or Tatsuki about Sora. There was a hollowness there that came from losing someone dear and critical in their life.

Absentmindedly, Ichigo began running his fingers through Orihime's hair. It had become a fond habit of his that Orihime enjoyed. "My parents were involved in the Japanese military," he explained. "Like me, they were part of an exclusive group dedicated for elite missions. But they grew tired and turned their back on them to start a family. For a while, everything was fine."

Ichigo paused, lost in the fleeting memories that involved his entire family. As brief as the moments were, they were shattered pieces of a sanctuary. When he felt Orihime entangle her fingers in his, he was reminded that he managed to steal heaven.

"They were eventually found and were forced back into that life style. I was only ten when I got enlisted into training. But I didn't really mind, I was always fighting anyways. And besides, I had made a deal to keep my little sisters out of the system in exchange for my services. So by the time I was fifteen, I was going out with the task force."

Frowning, Ichigo went on. "It was when I was twenty―I was working with Shinji and Kisuke at the time. One of our missions involving terrorists infiltrating Japan went wrong. We were ambushed and nearly got ourselves killed right on the spot. But before retreating, we managed to kill our target."

A heavy silence followed. Ichigo's jaw locked as the words he swallowed down came back up his throat. "As a repercussion, they murdered my mother."

A gasp fell from Orihime's lips. Eyes wide, she breathed, "No . . ."

Grimly, Ichigo locked gazes with her. "I was with her, Orihime. I had gone back home to spend time with her and they came for us. They fucking found my family home. My dad took my sisters and I was with responsible for my mother―I was suppose to protect her but I―"

His head bowed and buried itself into Orihime's lilac scented hair. His hold on her had turned fierce and it began to hurt Orihime but she didn't mention it. What was cinching her heart was the sound of Ichigo in anguish.

"She died protecting me."

A sharp pain dug itself into Orihime's ribs and jaggedly ripped through her chest. These things she hears break her heart over and over. The lingering smoke separating her Ichigo was finally clearing and as she expected, horrible things had happened to him.

Tears were beginning to sting Orihime's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Ichigo."

Pulling back, Ichigo gave Orihime such strong look that made her stomach tight. A fierceness was radiating off his body. Maybe he couldn't save his mother but he would make sure her death wasn't in vain. "Don't be. Now I won't make same mistake twice."

**:**

The hour was late when Ichigo brought Orihime back to the Inoue household. At that hour, the sky had drawn its curtains, leaving its stars to twinkle for guidance. And as they came into the driveway and saw Iwao's car settled in the driveway, Orihime stiffened. The sight of it brought an unsettling sensation to the pit of her stomach.

Regardless, she tried her best to ignore the dread and made an effort to remain composed. With Ichigo trailing behind her for support, Orihime entered her house and found her father expectingly waiting in the parlor.

Immediately, Ichigo sensed the daunting aura surrounding Iwao. Something about the shadows that danced across the man's expression was raw. Anger was pulsating through the man but somehow he managed to appear in control.

Orihime's eyes widened as Iwao shot her a cold glare. It had been years since her father had looked that way. The last time it happened, him and Jun had been arguing heatedly and her mother suffered from a broken wrist. After sucking in a shaky breath, Orihime greeted the man. "Hello, Otou-san."

Iwao stood up abruptly and began pacing. "I found out some very interesting things, Orihime."

"W-What do you mean?"

Ichigo took a step closer to Orihime's side but Iwao caught the action. Roughly, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her forward. "I tried arranging a dinner with Hisagi and he declined." Iwao's grip was like a tourniquet, sure to leave a large bruise. "Now why would that be?"

Orihime forced herself to look directly at her father and settled on the velvet carpet floor. "I-I don't know, Otou-san. Maybe he just doesn't find me appealing."

Iwao snorted. "Or maybe you've followed in your mother's footsteps and are fucking your body guard like some high priced whore."

_He knows, _thought Orihime in the back of her head but surprisingly enough, it didn't bother her. She no longer cared what her father thought.

However, it did feel as though a knife had pierced her and then she thought of all the scars Ichigo had all over his body that covered thick skin and heavy muscles. Then she realized that they were all signs that Ichigo had escaped death and survived horrible situations. Now was not the time to sit back and take Iwao's abuse; she had promised Ichigo that she'd fight back.

The sound of Orihime's thundering heartbeat filled her ear. Rage made her tremble violently and spots flickered in front of her eyes. Then using all her strength, Orihime jerked backwards and broke away from Iwao. "Then what does that say about you?"

It was the fiery defiance in her eyes that snapped what little sanity Iwao had left. It reminded him too much of Jun and the way she yelled and went out of her way to make things difficult for him. Temper flaring, Iwao's hand came down across Orihime's heated face.

In an instant, Iwao hit the floor. A daunting weight pressed upon him, holding him in place while his airway suddenly cut off. He only had the chance to blink before fist after fist pounded on his cheek and nose. There was a crunching noise and then blood spluttered over Iwao's face.

"Get the fuck off of me you bastard!" snarled Iwao, unable to defend himself.

Iwao's furious shouts fell upon deaf ears. He had made the mistake of physically harming Orihime. He had no chance against Ichigo who was suddenly out for blood.

All Ichigo could think of was how scared Orihime had been of Iwao, how her father used her and treated her like dirt. He thought of the pain Orihime had endured and the grief she suffered from the loss of her brother. He remembered her crying face at the party.

It would be easy. With a simple movement, Iwao's neck could snap and Orihime would be free.

Frozen in shock, Orihime stared as Ichigo toppled over Iwao and began beating him. All this was for her, he was on the verge of taking Iwao's life for her sake. Her hand shakily reached up and touched her stinging cheek. It hurt but not as much as watching Ichigo lose himself in fury.

Then it happened.

Ichigo's hands completely encircled Iwao's throat and took pleasure in the other man's fear. "I'll see you in hell."

Sparkling tears rolled continuously down Orihime's face. How could just stand by and let this occur? Even though she had to withstand seventeen years of abuse she couldn't allow her father to die. She just couldn't. She wasn't able to let Ichigo kill Iwao despite what he had done to Jun and Sora. Maybe it made her weak and too soft hearted but isn't that what God asked from her everyday?

At the last second, Orihime desperately searched for her voice and cried out, _"Don't do it, Ichigo!"_

Ichigo went rigid, jolted by Orihime's helpless plea. Slowly, he turned away from the struggling Iwao and saw how upset she was. "Orihime . . . ."

Breathing rapidly due to a weight on her chest, Orihime weeped, "Please, Ichigo―Please, don't kill him!"

Ichigo stared in confusion. Didn't she realize what would follow if they let Iwao live? She couldn't be free as long as her father was alive. He needed to save her . . . .

Orihime saw the conflict within Ichigo and it pained her. "I'm sorry," she sobbed brokenly. "But you can't―H-He's still my father―"

Ichigo's head fell. He had to find a way to give her everything she wanted. He wouldn't fail her like he did his mother. Taking one last look at Iwao, Ichigo inhaled sharply and then smashed the man's skull against the floor. There was a gasp from Orihime but Ichigo ignored it.

Getting back onto his feet he ordered quietly, "Grab your things, Orihime. We're leaving."

Orihime hesitated, glancing back and forth between Iwao and Ichigo. But then after staring regretfully at her father, she shook her head and ran out to collect her things. It was no or never and she knew she'd never get a chance like this again.

Fists clenched at his sides, Ichigo stared down at Iwao's limp body. There was still a slight rise and fall of the chest―Iwao was left unconscious and would probably suffer from a few broken bones and a bad concussion. The man surely deserved much worse but it he had been spared because of Orihime.

Ichigo glared. "You live because of her mercy."


End file.
